This Cruel Reality
by BeneathThisMask
Summary: Tanner Bradly is, in every way shape and form, a loner. That all changes one fateful Georgian afternoon thanks to one person: Carl Grimes. Confronted by the sudden new sensation of companionship, Tanner must face his demons for the sake of his new group, and ends up developing an important bond along the way.
1. The New World

**A/N: So, I wanted to do a Walking Dead fic for awhile now - especially one that starred my favorite characters, Carl and Michonne - but, all that I am, I have to have a bit of originality (as in original characters in there), so this developed out of that. None of my other fics (which have long since been deleted) really stuck with me, or me with them. So this is my attempt to rectify that. Since this is intended to be a romance/hurt/comfort type story, I should probably throw out this disclaimer: There will be homosexual relations in here, but I'm not much into smut, so... it may or may not be in here, but don't expect it. Just warning you up front. ****And I'll probably write from each of the character's points of view at least once, so I'll try to clarify who's point of view I'm writing from somehow, depending on the scene... The first scene, however, which is a flashback, I'll write in third person, just because I never usually do flashbacks in first person. The rest should be first person though, so we'll see how that goes...**

**Anywho, after that obnoxiously non-necessary A/N, we can finally begin. I do hope this is at least semi-enjoyable. I'm actually going to try to finish this one, but that completely depends on interest. So review, favorite, follow, the whole shebang so I know someone out there actually cares about this... Enjoy!**

**((Also, for all those who may just be curious, this takes place after the midseason finale of Season 4. I decided to be a rebel and not have this story take place at the prison.))**

* * *

_"The thing about society screeching abruptly to a halt is that there's no warning._

_The news never predicted it. There was no warning signals, no change in the air. The president didn't have enough time, even, to give a speech about it. How does civilization as you know it end without even the slightest hint that such devastation was on the horizon? I believe its because the great minds of this world were looking in the wrong places. You see, the problem with looking at the big picture all the time is that the tiniest details tend to slip past you. Global warming, nuclear warfare, overpopulation, pollution... Ask any scientist of the day, and they would've told you that it would be one of those that brought an end to everything we know and love. But they were just looking at the big picture. At the what if's, the could be's, and the maybe's, if you will. And that was a mistake..._

**_Oh, such a mistake._**

_It happened without warning, as most disasters often do. _

_One day, the citizens of Earth were carrying out their everyday lives as they had since the day they were brought into the world. The next, they were gone. Or, most of them at least. No explanation of how it started, where it started, what it was, or why. It just happened. The dead were coming back to life. And at the rate it was happening, no man-made weapon, biological or machine, could contain its spread._

_To illustrate my point further, I'll tell you how it happened to me. What is written here and thereafter is the true account of how the end begins and how one survives the end into a new beginning."_

_- Tanner Bradly_

* * *

Life is dull for Tanner Bradly.

At sixteen years old, closing in on his seventeenth birthday, he is nearing the end of his high school career and has set his sights on college. Medical school. As exciting as that may sound: it isn't. Tanner isn't even in the least bit excited about college. Because it meant that he would be leaving his humble little abode in Texas and going off on his own to Atlanta, where he would be attending school. Deep down, he knew it was his fault he was even having to put up with the hassle of this move. After all, _he_ had decided it would be best to move out. _He_ had decided that, if he in fact was going to move out, it was going to be as far away from home as he could possibly get. If his mother had gotten her way, he'd have lived at home through college, but Tanner was not having that. No sir. But the move was much more of a hassle then he had bargained for. Paperwork for the school. Paperwork for the apartment. Lots of flying back and forth between both places during his school holidays. It was fucking exhausting, and Tanner Bradly was someone who liked to keep things nice and simple. So exhausting, in fact, that as he approaches his soon-to-be new apartment, two large boxes full of more junk from back home, the only word he can utter to express his frustrations is: "Shit."

This was it. The day he would finally finish moving and, at long last, be able to take a break until the school semester started up in August. To his right, he can see the familiar tan SUV his parents had driven two days to get here. Normally, they wouldn't make such a big deal out of events in Tanner's life, because they were so busy handling the affairs of his 14 year-old brother, Mike, and 13 year old sister Anna. But, being that he was moving so far away, his mother had assisted they help him move the last of his things and at least see his new abode before giving him a proper send off. And, in a way, the sentimentality of it all was nice, if not overly exhausting in and of itself.

"These are the last of the boxes!" he heard himself shout, as he stepped through the threshold, kicking the front door shut behind him.

It hadn't taken his father long to unpack a reclining chair and plant his ass in it. In seventeen years of life, Tanner couldn't ever remember going a day without seeing his father rocking away in some form of recliner. Sure the man worked to provide for his family, but when 6 PM rolled around every evening, he was home, ass firmly planted in his recliner until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion. The teen simply rolled his eyes and moved passed his father, sitting the boxes he was carrying down in the tiny kitchenette near the back of the room. As if on cue, his mother rounded the corner from the hall that led to the bedroom and promptly grabbed a small rag from the sink, wiping the dust that had collected on her hands from the boxes clean off. The woman was shorter than Tanner by a good foot, and was a complete bundle of nerves. As Tanner was her first child, this was obviously her first time experiencing a child moving out of her nest - _far_ out of her nest - and she wasn't taking it well; though better than he had originally given her credit for, when he first proposed the idea a year prior.

"I went ahead and hung up your clothes in the central closet in the hallway." she was saying, laying the rag in the sink once more. "Are you sure you got everything from the car?"

Tanner casually rolled his eyes and offered her a soft smile, "Yes, Mom. Every last one."

She simply nodded her response. One look in her hazel eyes said the rest. It was about time for them to head out. They had a long two day drive back to Texas and Tanner's father wasn't one to waste time. Even now he was lifting himself out of his perch in the chair he'd unpacked and begun gathering their own things for the trip back. His mother eyed him, biting her lower lip. The teen could always tell when his mother was fighting back tears. And, even though he was eager to begin his new life away from home, seeing her there looking like that pulled at his heart strings. Wordlessly, he wrapped the smaller woman in an embrace and told her that everything would be fine, and that he would be okay.

Little did he know it would be the last time he'd see her, or any of them, alive.

The goodbyes were long and tearful, and Tanner took an especially decent chunk of time saying his farewell to his younger siblings. Though they seemingly made it their goal to pester the living shit out of him back home, he had to admit that he would miss them. He would miss them a lot. Finally, as the sun began to set on the Atlanta skyline, the teen stood on the balcony for the first time, alone, waving as his family's tiny SUV faded into the distance. With a large sigh, he stepped back as they faded from sight, and then entered his apartment. For truly the first time, the silence hit him all at once. No one talking. No mother barking at him to do his chores. No father screaming at some sports team he liked on the television. No brother or sister screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. Shutting the door behind him, he gently leaned back against it, closing his eyes to take the moment all in.

"Shit." was the only word he could muster.

####

Ever have those sudden moments where you're still asleep, and yet are aware that you a dreaming?

Usually its the moment directly before you actually become conscious again and wake up. And so I become aware of that cruel reality. It was just a dream. A memory, but a dream. I'm familiar with the dream. I've had it too many times to even begin to give an accurate figure. That was the last time I saw my family. The last time I heard their voices. The last time that everything was truly normal and as it should be. The infection had hit a week later. No one had even seen it coming. A sudden ray of light brings me back to reality and I slowly open one eye to confirm what I already knew. Morning was here; the sun's persistent rays pushing its way through the slits in the blinds on the window just above where I am sleeping. Its a small house I'm staying in. Moved into it about two days ago when I'd stumbled upon the little neighborhood in a town whose name I didn't know. I figured I'd stay here a day or two more before moving on. The neighborhood, despite the obvious overgrowth of the lawns, and general disarray that came along with the world coming to an end, was fairly tranquil. I had only seen a few of the dead lingering around in the distance when I had arrived.

It was a nice feeling, not having to always worry about when those fuckers would try to bash in your door.

Even still, in this world, if you stay in one place for too long, you become complacent. And complacency leads to death. At one time, I was the happy-go-lucky type that was just content to be where I was. That "me" is gone. And so, knowing that I can't leave at all without restocking my supplies, I begin to prepare for a day of scavenging the surrounding houses. I had a fairly large backpack with me; the kind you'd see hikers carrying on long treks through the wilderness, which allowed me to carry several days worth of supplies with me at a time. If I really crammed shit in it, and didn't use the supplies recklessly, sometimes it would last me an entire week. And yet, going through what I had left in it, the realization dawned on me that I was running dangerously low on just about everything. I could only see two bottles of water, and of those, one seemed to be partially drank. I only had about three cans of some strange vegetable left. Funny, in the good ol' days, I hated anything green. Its amusing how much one's taste changes when the times call for it.

"Shit, looks like I got work to do." I mutter to myself.

Glancing over to the nearby wall, I spy my weapon, or should I say weapon**s**, of choice. They're a pair: a Japanese nodaichi (a long sword) and a wakizashi (short sword). It never ceased to amuse me how much I was ridiculed by my family when I purchased these things years back with some of my savings money. As it turns out, the younger me was quite a nerd: fascinated by Japanese manga and anime, which spurred my initial interest in the traditional weapons of the Japanese samurai. My dad, ever the gun-touting Southerner, who'd never use a weapon that lacked a trigger, had simply scoffed and said they'd do nothing but "collect dust" on my shelf. But, being the nerd that I was, I never listened to him and bought them anyways. Of course - all that I was back then - I could never resist a chance to practice with these things. And so practice I did. Every morning for years, in the large field behind our tiny abode back in Texas. Back then I had done it as a hobby; a way to relieve my stress when things got too out of hand. But now, years later, that practice is all that keeps me from being another fleshy meal for the undead.

Moving swiftly and efficiently, I worked to strap both swords to me - wearing one strapped around my upper body, so that it was resting against my back, and the other strapped at the waist for easy reach. Once done, I slung the large, yet mostly empty backpack on my back, on top of the first sword and then began to push the couch I had wedged against the entry door out of the way, allowing me to twist the knob and step out into the fresh morning Georgia sun. The air is a tad bit nippy, but it would warm up quickly, so I didn't think too much of it. A general sweep of the area didn't reveal any immediate danger, but, as you learn quickly in this new world: danger doesn't always lurk in plain sight. And so, right hand resting on my wakizashi like a makeshift armrest, I set off towards the street to begin my salvaging.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

Numbness.

The word isn't strong enough, but that's the only thing I can feel as I make my way down the dirt path through the trees. Behind me, the pained wheezing indicates that Dad hadn't fallen too far behind. I didn't care. Neither of us had said much of anything to one another since the prison. It had only been about a week, and yet, the memory of that bloodbath was a fresh as if it had just happened only mere moments ago. The image of Herschel kneeling, a small, yet soft smile on his face just before the Governor brought Michonne's sword down on him, severing his head from the rest of his body. I feel my muscles instinctively cringe as the image comes back to me. Herschel was a good man. Almost like a grandfather to me. He had done nothing to no one to deserve the fate that he received. Suddenly, a gasping shriek from behind me snapped me back to reality and I wheeled around to face it.

"Carl!" it was Rick, my dad, still holding his bruised torso from where he had been injured during the fight. "Slow down!"

Dad was trying his best to sound authoritative and demanding, but I could see that he was using everything he had just to muster up the wheeze that came out instead. My response is instinctive, if not somewhat intentional. Its not a vocal response, but the glare I give him says more than any words I try every will. Turning back, I start back down the path. At this point, I wonder how my legs are even carrying me. The numbness growing in my chest is unbearable, and yet, even so, its better than facing the pain that hides underneath it. The pain of loss. It was bad enough to lose everything and everyone when hell first broke loose a year and half prior. But now, I was forced to go through it again:

_Michonne, Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Herschel... Judith. _

I clenched my eyes at the thought of little Judith. But the thought quickly turns to hot, stinging tears that I'm fighting hard to keep from showing. In a way, I hate myself as much as I hate Dad. I was her big brother. I was _supposed_ to be the one protecting her and I let her down. The numbness in my chest is sudden replaced by a blazing anger. If only Dad hadn't given up, made us farmers, and had helped Daryl and Michonne hunt down the Governor, **_none_ **of this would have even happened. They could've killed the Governor and lived at the prison in peace. But that didn't happen. They were all gone now. No one was coming back. And the thought of this made my blood boil even more when the same raspy voice called out to me a second time.

"Carl..." the voice of my father snarled.

I turn.

"We're... we're going to be al-"

I'm not having it. We are most certainly _not_ going to be alright. Everytime he had ever said that, shit had hit the fan. The camp outside of Atlanta, the farm, and now even the prison. Everything crumbles eventually and I have finally come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as being "safe" or "alright" in this new world. And so once again, my answer is not verbal, but a glare. And it seems that this time, he gets it, because he stops in mid-sentence and glances away. I take that as a cue to keep walking. I can see houses in the distance. Rest is on its way.

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Another day has passed uneventfully.

Yesterday's scavenging had proven to be a huge success. The houses around here had barely been touched since the world had ended, and there was still a wealth of bottled water, canned food, and other useful knickknacks that I had now tightly packed away in my overflowing backpack. Over the past year and a half, carrying around such a heavy pack had naturally increased my strength and stamina. To the point that carrying such a load was hardly an issue anymore. I barely felt it. The afternoon sun was now peaking through the house's windows and I knew that tomorrow I would again be on the move, searching for another base of operations to settle down at for a few more days. Still, there was one more thing I intended to do before I left this humble little neighborhood. One of the neighboring houses had a fairly nice looking pickup sitting in their driveway. I haven't driven a truck since shit hit the fan over a year ago, but even I had to admit that driving beat the hell out of walking any day. So, assuming I could find the keys in their house somewhere, and assuming that there was enough gas still in the tank, tomorrow, I'd be leaving out of here in style.

And so it was with that in mind that I set out from my base of operations and began to swiftly make my way up the street. The sidewalk curved as I reached the edge of the neighborhood, where the house sat, but my brisk stroll was brought to an abrupt halt as a gunshot rang out. Instinct took over and, before I could really comprehend my own actions, I was flat on the concrete; mostly hidden by the overgrowth of the lawns. Silence reigned for several seconds before another gunshot rang out. Then another. And then another. Having grown up around guns all my life, and having hunted numerous times with my outdoor-centrist father, I could tell the shots weren't being made with too great of precision. They were frantic, as if whoever shot them was desperately trying to ward off an attacker. Suddenly, I lose sight of my original goal, slowly making my way to my knees. I scan the horizon for any signs of movement. I can feel my heart pounding away in my chest cavity, so hard it threatened to burst out of my chest. When your world has been mostly silence for the past year and a half, the sudden sounds of gunshots were quite the frightening noise.

Even so, there isn't a single sign of movement. Regardless, I had heard the direction the shots had come from. The question is: do I follow the sound the source and investigate, or do I seek shelter? I know one thing. I cannot stay in my present position. Sound tends to draw the undead for miles around, and so whether only one or two, or an entire herd is on its way, I know I only have a few minutes before the creepers rear their ugly, decaying faces. Leaping into a standing position, I barely register that I am moving towards the source of the shots. Investigation it was, then.

You know that saying "curiosity killed the cat"? One day, that'll apply to me. Ever since I was little, my curiosity always got the best of me. So far, that mentality has never gotten me into a compromising situation, but in the back of my head, I knew the day would soon come where that luck finally ran out. I just hoped it wasn't today.

I round the corner of a small white house and catch my first evidence of the day. A pile of dead corpses, four high, stacked one on top of the other. My pupils constrict as I home in on my targets. It doesn't take much for me to deduce that they are what were being shot at. There were bullet holes in each of their heads and the last corpse had multiple gunshot wounds, starting from the lower corner of its neck which then trailed upward until it finally found purchase in the brain. So I was right. Panic. These fuckers must've caught someone off guard and caused them to frantically fire their weapon in an attempt to escape. From the looks of the scene, they had succeeded. And yet, no sooner had I finished observing the foul smelling bodies that I noticed another unpleasant odor in the air. And its source was directly next to the bodies themselves.

Vomit.

_Well, there goes my appetite for today._

There isn't much of it, but its there. My stomach lurches and I'm forced to turn away. Ironic, isn't it? I can stand the smell and sight of four dead corpses, but the sight of vomit turns my bowels inside out. Its fucking embarrassing.

_Get a hold of yourself, Tanner._

New questions are now swimming in my head. Whoever left this mess here had obviously already gotten away, but they couldn't be too far.

_If I were them, I'd seek shelter in one of these nearby homes,_ I thought to myself.

As if on cue, sounds of commotion begin to rise from the neighboring house. Though I can't be sure precisely, it sounds like a struggle. My predatory instincts begin kicking in and my right hand unconsciously tightens its grip on the hilt of my still sheathed wakizashi. And even though I know its probably a bad idea, I begin to make my way towards the source of the noise. I approach the neighboring house slowly and cautiously. By now I can hear the sound of a door frantically being slammed from one of the upper rooms. Glancing around, I notice there is a back door into the home, which looked mostly untouched. Bingo. An entrance. I make short work of the lock with the handle of my sword. Its a skill I'd perfected over the last year and a half of scavenging, and one that has never failed me yet.

The first thing I noticed upon entering the home was that the sounds had stopped. That either meant that whoever it was had escaped... or that they had met a very gruesome demise. From his position in the backmost room, he could see through the narrow hall that the front door of the home was ajar. Whoever was here obviously didn't believe in covering their flank. Seconds passed and now I can hear faint noises coming from up the stairs. They aren't the hard struggling noises I had heard just minutes prior, being much softer. It sounded to me almost like something was meandering around in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and I had a hunch I knew why. A hunch that was only confirmed when I made my way to the top of the stairwell.

A message left in chalk: "**Walker inside. Got my shoe, but it didn't get me.**"

I felt a grin slowly creep across my face. These days I rarely smiled. Even on the off chance that something managed to amuse me, I kept it inside. Numbness tends to rule you after so long of seeing nothing but death and destruction. But, even after all I'd seen and been through, I couldn't deny when something - even something this damn cocky - was funny. A quick glance around confirmed that there was nothing of particular interest in the upstairs. Upon closer inspection, however, I noticed that the chalk was still fresh. Whoever had wrote this message, had scribbled it out just mere moments before I had arrived here. That meant I could still catch up to them.

And that gave me an idea.

A few minutes later, I exited the back door of the house, a brown shoe under my left arm, and a bloodied wakizashi clenched tightly in my right hand. Quickly glancing up at the sky, I noticed that the sun was beginning to make its descent in the sky. It'd be night in a few hours and I now needed to find this shoe's owner. Crossing the back yard, around the side of the house, and into the front lawn I was yet again reminded that whomever I had been following around all day was still alive.

An empty tub of chocolate pudding.

Obviously, someone was hungry.

Like the chalk on the door, the pudding residue within the can would suggest it had only recently been opened and eaten. The undead don't eat pudding. Nor does a person in fear of their imminent death. I glance around once again, just to be sure I'm not being watched. At a time like this, the only thing I can do is continue on and hope to stumble into this person eventually. I couldn't possibly be far behind. I advanced down the street towards another row of houses. Once again, there is a turn in the road, leading through a short patch of shrubs and small trees to get to the next patch of homes and it is there that I finally get my answer. A rustle in the leaves to my left catches my attention. On instinct, my right hand, still firmly clutching my wakizashi's handle, swings around jabbing directly towards the source of the disturbance. Luckily, I register the source before I can go all the way with the kill.

A boy. Thin. Pale. His long dark-brown hair stuck together with sweat and dirt. Crystalline cerulean eyes staring back at me and a brown sheriff's hat on top of his head. But that's not all that is staring back at me. He has a pistol, firmly gripped, and aimed directly between my eyes. Finger on the trigger. Of course, that would intimidate me, if it weren't for the fact that the tip of my wakizashi was resting right against his jugular. The slightest twitch and I could cut him right open. 'Course, he could shoot me too, but something told me neither scenario would unfold. Because I noticed the chocolate smudge in the corner of his mouth and one look down at his shoeless foot tells the rest of the story.

My glare catches his.

"I think I have your shoe."


	2. My Name

**A/N:**** I hope you all realize that the first chapter of this story is probably the longest I've ever written as an "intro" chapter to any fanfiction I've ever written. And I've been writing fanfiction on various mediums for the past seven years. I can't tell if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but we'll see. As I said in the first installment; your interest is key to me continuing. I want to know that I'm not just writing this for personal gratification, so leave reviews of any kind (so long as they're constructive). I can only grow as an author if I get proper feedback from the readers. Feel free to PM me with questions too, if you have them. That said, I know this is only the second chapter, but I hope it gives you some insight into what the long haul will look like.**

**That being said, I did get a few reviews from the first chapter, and I will go ahead an respond to one of them. Yes, there will be more of Carl's point of view. And, when she comes into the picture, Michonne's as well, because I want her to play a major role in this story. I haven't decided exactly _how_ I want to do that yet, but it'll come to me with time. **

**Enjoy!**

**((At the end of this chapter, I'll try and reply to some of the other reviews :3 Always good to keep in communication with your readers, says I.))**

* * *

Even though the boy can clearly see the brown shoe that I am carrying under my left armpit, he hasn't even flinched. His gun is steady and there seems to be no hint of faltering in those crystalline eyes of his. His gaze is cold, ruthless, and unforgiving. The mark of a genuine killer. He's done this before and I can't even detect the slightest hint that he feels remorse from it. In a way, I respect that. I myself had become much like that over the past year and a half. I think he understood that too. There's an old saying that two warriors who are each other's equals can decipher what the other is thinking. And while he and I may not be two soldiers meeting on a foreign battlefield, in this new world, where the dead have risen and the living are hunted, we are in fact warriors fighting for our own survival. With that in mind, I match his chilling glare with one of my own. If it really comes down to it, I'll kill him without a second thought. The only thing preventing me from doing so anyways was the fact that it had been so long since I had seen another living human being; much less one so young. It would truly be a shame to end such a life without giving it some benefit of the doubt.

Though it may just be my natural curiosity to see what he'll do taking over again.

Our staring contest goes on, both of us silently testing the other's resolve. One of us had to falter eventually, leaving an opening in the process. But, in the meantime, the silence and stillness gives me an opportunity to get a better look at him. He seems to be close to my age. Fifteen, maybe sixteen years old, at most. He's only slightly shorter than me, his head coming up just over my shoulders, leaving a few inches difference in height. There is a faint pattern of freckles dotting across the pale skin of his face. In a way, its kind of cute.

_Cute? Really Tanner?_

That's a term I haven't used to refer to anyone or anything in too long for me to remember exactly. But, it was kind of true. Wasn't going to stop me from slicing his neck open if he tried to kill me, but it would make it even more of a shame to have to kill him. But once again, I am reminded that such a situation will never come about. And when he finally speaks, his voice catches me off guard completely.

"You put your weapon down." he says. "And I'll do the same."

His voice is rough. It still cracks, a sign of his budding adolescence, but even so, it has developed into a nice tenor. Still, to suggest that I lay my weapon down first was a ballsy thing to suggest. Especially when we both knew that if I so much as sneezed wrong, I could cut his jugular wide open. I make no indication I intend to budge.

"You've got the gun." I reply. "_You_ put _yours_ down. Then maybe I'll reward your generosity by returning your shoe."

I meant the last sentence to be some sort of dry humor, but he makes no indication of finding it humorous. I can tell the gears in his head are really grinding. Smart kid. He certainly doesn't trust me and I certainly don't trust him, but the realization seems to have dawned on him, as it did me, that neither of us really had a reason to harm each other, and it would just be best to comply. And so, slowly and shakily, he lowers his gun until it is eventually completely by his side. In response, I honor my side of the bargain, withdrawing the tip of my wakizashi and quickly slip it back into its sheath, which is still resting on my waist. He eyes me curiously, studying me from underneath long lashes. But even his attempts at looking threatening have their holes in them, as I soon notice his gaze advert to the shoe under my left arm. I, in turn, glance down at it before promptly extending my hand out - shoe in it - towards him. Its only then that I notice that his shoe, and therefore his feet, are much smaller than mine. But then again, if I was right about his age, he still had time to grow quite a bit more.

His eyes dart between the shoe and me, still eyeing me with a hint of suspicion. His glares are like icy daggers. I swear if looks could kill, this kid wouldn't even need a gun. One glare and he could kill every member of the undead that crossed his path. But, eventually, however, he reaches out and snatches the shoe from me, quickly bending down and shoving his shoeless foot inside. I decide to use the opportunity to strike up a conversation. Not that I'm at all interested in this kid's life, but the opportunity to speak to another human being for once is one I can't seem to bring myself to pass up.

"You out here all alone?"

The kid's glare gives me more of an answer than a verbal one could've. It clearly says: _Its none of your business_.

My eyes narrow, as they so often do when I'm given the cold shoulder, but I quickly shrug, taking that as my cue to leave. I turn and begin to walk back in the direction of the street, which would take me back to my current abode on the other side of the neighborhood. Or, at least, it would've if he hadn't spoken up, stopping me dead in my tracks.

"How about you?"

I glance at him over my shoulder. The look on his face is uncertain, almost as though he regrets having spoken up at all. This kid had trust issues. But, in a world where the dead try to eat you, and the living have become more like animals than men, it is a natural behavior to exhibit. I let the silence hang in the air for a moment, mainly so that I could observe his actions. He kept fidgeting with the loose string on his white and blue T-shirt, but he was still keeping my eye contact, which indicated that he was still interested in my answer. Sighing, and dropping my gaze the ground I indulge him:

"Yeah." I say, surprised at how suddenly lonesome I sound. Even if I'm not necessarily feeling it. "Been that way for awhile now."

I half expected him to leave it at that. To turn his own way and return to wherever it was that he came from. But he didn't. In my peripheral vision, I could see him still standing there, staring transfixed at the back of my head. To be honest, it kinda creeped me out, but I waited. I guess to see if he had any further questions, or anything else to say, though why I cared it is hard to say, exactly. But, eventually, he does speak.

"What's your name?"

_Why do you care?_ Is the first thought that comes to my mind.

That's another bad habit of mine. Usually, my first thoughts are to go on the defensive. Its not that I'm a snobby person, per say, its just, after people have come and gone in this post-civilization world, if someone starts asking a bunch of questions, its usually a red flag. And I've learned not to trust strangers in any capacity. Even younger strangers. But, this time, the voices inside my head are arguing. The kid doesn't seem to mean any harm. After all, my back was to him and my weapon in its sheath. If he wanted to, he could easily aim the gun still tightly gripped in his right hand, and put a bullet in my head. And so, for the first time in almost a year, I break my usual cold habit and answer:

"Tanner," I say.

Short. Simple. And to the point.

He nods and goes silent again. But, as with last time, he doesn't stay that way for long.

"Tanner? Thanks for getting my shoe." he says.

And then, as quickly as he finished speaking, he turned around and began to walk way. At first, I stay where I stopped; glaring idly at my feet. And then, as I had intended to do before he stopped me earlier, I begin on my own way as well.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

I had gotten really lucky just now.

Lucky that kid - Tanner was his name - didn't feel like carving me up. He could have, quite easily. My gun was out of ammo. Completely. I had used up the last few shots on the Walkers that nearly tore me about a little earlier in the day. But instead, all he had done was give me my shoe back. I glance down at the shoe that I lost to the Walker in the house just a little while ago. When I had left that note in chalk on the bedroom door, I hadn't actually expected someone to actually go inside and get my shoe. Much less come looking for me to give it back. Still, I wasn't about to tell him if I was traveling with anyone. Nor was I going to lead him back to where Dad and I were staying. And for that precise reason, I took a different route back to the house that Dad had picked out when we arrived in this neighborhood.

After the prison, I'm not really sure I can trust anyone. Even in this post-apocalyptic world, it was hard to believe that a group of people could attack another group of survivors and kill so many innocents. How could one person be that deranged? And how could that one person manage to convince others that killing children and the elderly, or _anyone_, for that matter was a good idea?

_Shane would've done it._

There is that thought again...

I've been thinking about Shane a lot since the prison fell. So much so that I actually used him in an argument I had with Dad just last night. After he found us outside of Atlanta, Dad had always tried his best to balance his duties as a dad and as the group's leader, but while he was alive, it was Shane who really looked after me. Taught me to survive. Scolded me whenever I got rebellious or disobeyed Mom. And yet, for all that I admired him, even I had noticed when he had begun to take a darker turn. After we settled at the prison, I thought I could move on. Forget about him. But the Governor brought up those memories all over again. This world changed people.

Took once good men, and turned them into something so very much unlike themselves. Something murderous. Something _evil_...

Even Dad had changed.

_And so have I._

And that's exactly why I can't let anyone else get close to me. Can't trust them like I did the others back at the camp... the farm... the prison. Because they all end up either changing into something less than human, or dying. Sometimes both. The familiar sensation of numbness I had felt since Dad and I left the prison was back. Almost as though there was a windhole deep inside my chest, sucking all the feeling out of me, and leaving an empty void in its wake. I glance behind me to make sure I'm not being followed. And of course, I'm not. Tanner seems to have gone back the way he came. Still, I couldn't help but feel somewhat bad for the guy. He said he had been out here all alone for sometime now. I'd like to believe I'd be okay if Dad were to die and I was on my own. But something in the way he had looked when I asked him that question told me that he was a lot more lonely than he initially let on.

_That'd be you too._

Reaching the door, I could faintly hear Dad's labored breathing. It was steady, but raspy, which told me that he was probably still sleeping. I'd been unable to wake him earlier this morning. Perhaps all the exhaustion from the battle at the prison and keeping on the run _since_ the prison had finally caught up to him. If that were the case he could be out for awhile. Sighing to myself, I began to walk around the house to the back, where I'd originally come out from earlier today. I dropped the supplies I'd managed to gather from the other houses on the kitchen counter and made my way to the living room, where, as I expected, I found Dad still passed out on the couch. And so, with nothing else left to do, I sat at the foot of the couch, drawing my legs up tightly to my chest, and rested my head against knees.

And that's when I realized, thinking back to my earlier thoughts: _That's me already._

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Another day had passed.

Despite meeting the boy yesterday, I was still determined to keep to my schedule. And so, when the first beams of sunlight illuminated the bedroom in which I had fallen asleep in, I rose, dressed myself, and began to prepare to take off once again. I decided to abandon my plan of snatching a vehicle from one of the neighboring houses. As quiet as this area was, the noise from the engine would only draw the undead, and now that I knew there were survivors in the area - at least one, anyways - I wasn't about to risk putting their lives in danger. I worked quietly and diligently, strapping my weapons in the same fashion I always do: one strapped over my back, the other around my waist: and threw my large backpack over the top of the one hanging across my back.

The morning air was crisp, slightly nippy, and moist against my skin. Fresh dew sat on the unattended lawns, but otherwise, the neighborhood looked just as pristine as I had left it the night before. I silently wondered to myself how long that would last. I'd learned the hard way, in the past, that it doesn't take long for herds of the undead to form. Once they did, they tended to swarm areas like a pissed off hive of killer bees. It was only a matter of time before this neighborhood suffered the same fate. My thoughts immediately drifted from that to the boy I had met just yesterday:

_What happens to him when they **do** swarm? And they will._

I shook my head of the thought.

Worry for others wasn't an emotion that I had felt for sometime; since I started traveling alone shortly after the initial outbreak. To me, in this world of "eat or be eaten", its an emotion you have to kill to survive. Apparently I hadn't done a very good job of killing it though, because try as I might, the thought continues to eat at the back of my head. Perhaps it was just the fact that he was nearly my age, and I hadn't seen anybody my age in a _long_ time. Well, not alive anyways. Even then, though, I don't know why I'd allow such a thing to bother me. Shaking my head clear one last time, I took off across the lawn, glancing back only once as a silent "_goodbye_" to the shelter that had kept me safe for the past couple of days. I had no idea where I was heading, but I figure if I just keep moving, eventually I'll find a place safe enough to finally settle down. Some place away from all of this.

Behind the second row of houses was a small trail that lead back into the woods. I placed my right palm lightly against the handle of my wakizashi. Its always a good thing to be ready for action when you enter a heavily wooded area. While you'd think that you could hear one of the undead coming in the underbrush, some of them had a habit of being able to sneak up on you by coming out of absolutely nowhere, as I've learned. The brush is thick and thorny. As I push my way through it, twigs often swing back, and smack me in the head, arm, or some other limb. Once I accidentally grazed a particularly obnoxious thorn jutting out of a large rose bush, leaving a nice long gash on my upper arm. Still, I pressed on. When you are used to fighting for your life against the cannibalistic undead roaming our world now, something like a cut on your arm from a rose bush didn't faze you anymore: so long as said gash was cleaned later, to prevent infection, that is. For the time being, I merely took out a handkerchief from the side pocket of my backpack and tied it around the wounded flesh, in order to soak up the bleeding.

Finally, some five minutes later, I emerged from the thicket of trees and bushes into a large clearing: a field of vastly overgrown grasses, surrounded on all sides by trees, trees, and more trees. A quick survey of the horizon didn't reveal any of the undead lurking in the area so I began to press on. My hike was brought to a very abrupt halt, however, when a shout rang out above the silence. It was a shrill that seemed to slice right through me, freezing the blood in my veins as it passed by. My head immediately jerked in the direction of the noise.

Nothing.

There was a slight echo, however, indicating that the source of the noise was some distance away from me.

_More survivors? Creepers don't shriek like that._

It could've just been an animal but the thought that's been gnawing at the back of my head like a hungry termite since I left this morning is back with a vengeance. Against my better judgement, and I'd say even against my free will, my body has already begun moving in the direction the sound came from. It doesn't take me long to spot the first of the undead. Lingering in a corner of the clearing, just barely out of tree cover, there are three of them. But, oddly enough, they're not moving out into the clearing, but rather into the woods. Likely, they had been alerted to the sound too and were converging on it, like they always do. My wakizashi is out before I fully register the movement, slicing clean through the neck of a female creeper, whose head and remaining torso then slump to the ground like a dead weight. The other two register the movement behind them and turn, baring their decayed teeth at me, and releasing their trademark snarls from the back of their throats. Eyes narrowing with disgust, and hints of hatred, the tip of my short sword catches the second corpse - a young male - directly between the eyes, causing a splash of blood and brain matter which streaks across the bridge my nose and lower left cheek. Not that it bothers me in the slightest. With a strong kick to the abdomen, I push the corpse back enough to free my sword from its skull, spinning around and slicing the third, advancing creeper across the chest. This causes another fountain of blood to spray, and the slash seems to have had enough force to knock the still snarling corpse backwards, giving me enough time to deliver the final death blow to the head.

For a moment, I stand victorious over the three bodies, my sword dripping with crimson ooze, and myself being covered in splatters of their blood. And though I can't see the look I'm giving them, the chill rising in my chest tells me its cold... heartless.

My gaze only adverts once I hear rustling coming from deeper within the thicket. A flash of movement catches my peripheral vision and my head reacts instinctively, glancing above me. Birds. An entire flock fleeing from the treetops into the sky. My eyes narrow and I soon return my gaze to the woods in front of me.

_Whatever is going on in there..._

I stop mid-thought. Better not to continue pondering about it. With creepers in the vicinity, time was of the essence. Especially when that shrill could be a life in need of rescue. Tightening my grip on my wakizashi, I begin to wade back into the thick brush. At first, there is no immediate signs of activity. No out of place or broken twigs or branches. No fresh footprints, animals or humans otherwise. I was no tracker, but I was observant enough to notice the obvious signs of a struggle, or any sort of activity. But its just as I finish this thought that a gunshot rings out. Then another. And another. Flashbacks from the day prior are coming in quicker than my mind can process, and as I hear the third shot, my legs are in motion: exploding with kinetic energy that caries me forward - crashing through everything in my path. A snarl to my left slows me, and I snap around to see creepers emerging from other parts of the woods. The gunshots must've drawn them. At first its only one or two, but their numbers are quickly increasing. The sunlight pouring in through the branches above catch my slim blade as it comes up over my head, casting a blinding flash as I bring it down on the closest of the reanimated: a deep vertical cut straight down the center of the skull. As the monster tumbles, the sole of my shoe connects with the remains of its head, mutilating it further and allowing me to free the trapped blade. Another shot rings out and it becomes immediately apparent that the undead are more interested in the noise than they are in me, because they're making no attempt to fight through the brush to reach me.

Despite this, I notice the shot sounds closer.

_I'm almost there... Just a bit more..._

The next creeper has its back to me, too concerned with getting to the source of the shots than noticing me running up on it. I merely shove this one out of the way, causing it to tumble over with an angry hiss into some shrubs. I know that it is too slow and the brush is too thick for it to catch up to me, so I continue to press on as fast as my legs and the terrain will allow me. The shots have stopped, but I can see figures ahead. It looks like more of the undead, but the way they are clambering into the area, I know that there is something catching their interest there. This is only further supported by the sounds of snapping branches and rustling leaves coming from the area, which grows louder as I approach.

_Just a bit more..._ I repeat to myself.

Twigs snap, and one manages to penetrate my tattered shirt, cutting shallowly into my flesh as I crash through the bushes. Driving by adrenaline and instinct, I immediately explode into action. Throwing my arms back, my backpack slips from my shoulders, landing with a thud into a pile of leaves. My left hand reaches back as this happens, firmly grasping the handle of my second sword, and within seconds, I have a sword in each hand. During this past year and a half, I've gotten really good with these bad boys. I would even be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy using them. When they were drawn, I could drown out my fear, my pain, my exhaustion and simply hone in on one thing: killing as many of these reanimated corpses as possible. And so, in that mindset, my body is a whirlwind, the long sword slicing clean through the neck of the nearest corpse, sending its head flying off to the left. In my right hand, I immediately spin on my heel, thrusting the short sword into the back of the skull of another. My moves are much akin to a dance, and this is one "routine" I know by heart. Two more creepers taste steel, losing their heads in the process, and finally I am able to reach the final one, who seems to have its attention on something on the ground. Because its bending over, mouth open like some predatory animal.

I bring my long sword up and jab down...

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

I have to curse my own adventurous nature sometimes.

Back at the farm, it had nearly gotten me bitten by a walker I _thought_ was stuck in the mud; unable to hurt me. That same walker ended up killing Dale. And before even that, it was my curiosity in a deer that had wandered close to Shane, my dad, and I that had gotten me shot by Otis and nearly killed in the process. But, as Dad was on day two of his coma, I had gotten restless just sitting in the house and decided to go out exploring; brimming with new found confidence at having killed four walkers the day before, and escaping a fifth, absent my shoe. I had wandered into the woods after having remembered seeing grapes growing on a few bushes when Dad and I were making our way into the neighborhood two days earlier, and thought it'd be a good idea to gather as many of them as I could. After I had found some of the grape bushes I was looking for, I must've zoned out with what I was doing, because I never noticed the first walker coming out of the woods behind me. The sudden jolt of surprise that came with that had caused me to shriek, something that would've embarrassed me were there others around to witness it. But she was far enough that I had time to reach my knife and stab her in the head.

Unfortunately, she had brought friends.

Of course, I had tried to fight back. I had reloaded my gun before setting out, after yesterday's mishap, and was able to take out several of them. But the gunshots only seemed to draw in more of them, and as I backed away to make a run for it, a vine jutting out from a nearby tree caught my shoe and sent me hard to the ground. I hit my head so hard, it is a real wonder I didn't black out. And that's how I wound up in my current predicament. I just knew I was a goner when, still dazed, one of the advancing walkers knelt down and opened its foul-smelling mouth to take a chunk right out of my face, but then it stopped.

And not even a hair's width away from my nose, was the sharp end of a blade; still dripping with walker blood.

The walker itself died, the only thing holding its head up being the sword still firmly shoved through the back of its head. And then, the mysterious sword-wielder moved the walker head to the side, and then let it drop to the ground, where they plucked the sword from the back of the dead thing's head. At first, I had to admit, I was too dazed from hitting my head to register who it was that had saved me. Having completely forgotten about the kid from yesterday in all the commotion, I thought maybe it was possible that Michonne was the one who had killed it. Maybe she had survived the prison, heard the commotion, found me and saved me! But any thought of this was quickly swept away when the figure spoke, snapping me from my daze.

"Do you always go looking for trouble, or does it just follow you everywhere you go?" a deeper voice asks.

I open my mouth to respond, but a sharp throbbing at the base of my skull shuts me up; my hand reflexively snapping backwards. The sudden warmth brings me back to reality. Blood.

"Ack!" I spit, recoiling from the sudden sting. Must've been where I hit my head.

I immediately become aware that there is somebody next to me. Probably the same person that had just spoken. His breathing is heavy. Clearly he's very tired, though, with all the pain flooding my sensory organs, I'm not able to connect the dots as to why. Slowly, my blurred vision focuses, and I'm able to see him up close and clearly. He's on his knees, head bowed, sweat dropping along with residual walker blood that had splattered onto him. His brown hair is covering his eyes, but I'm able to recognize who he is now.

"Yo... You're the kid from yesterday." I croak, my voice hoarse with pain.

He glances up, still panting, offering a crooked smile: "Wouldn't kill you to remember my name, would it?" he jokes between huffs.

Seeing just passed him, I notice the bodies on the floor. Did he kill all those walkers without me noticing? If so, it was no wonder he was struggling just to catch his breath. Another sharp twinge of pain brings my hand back to the sight of the wound, this time I gasp in agony, causing my vision to blur once more. And then...

Everything is black...

####

I come to slowly.

My head and neck are still throbbing, but its slightly more bearable than before. It feels as though I'm moving, but strangely enough, I can't feel the ground beneath my feet. My eyes cracking open slowly, snapping shut briefly as the afternoon sunlight floods them, and then fluttering open again. And that's when I realize that I am moving, but my feet are most certainly _not_ on the ground. I'm being carried, piggyback-style, on the back of the kid who'd saved me from the walkers earlier. My legs are resting against a sword each, which are now both strapped to his waist, whereas yesterday he had one on his back. Obviously he had accommodated to take me along. His movement is slow and somewhat wobbly. At first I think its just because of all my extra weight he's carrying, but then I notice something else. Though he has both arms wrapped underneath my knees, allowing him to hold me up on his back, he's also got one hand firmly attached to the strap of a backpack, which he is dragging along the ground: likely the reason we're moving so slow, as the backpack continues to catch on brush and twigs.

But its the look on his face that truly says it all.

His eyelids are drooped from exhaustion, sweat drenching his skin. Dried walker blood streaks across his nose, the lower part of his cheek, and explodes like a splatter painting onto his ragged T-shirt. Right then and there, I can tell its taking everything he has just to keep moving. That's when I decide to speak up:

"I can walk, ya know?"

His eyes suddenly snap open, startled by my voice breaking the dense silence surrounding us. He stops moving.

"You hit your head pretty bad back there." he says. "Are you sure?"

I nod, so he lowers me gently to the ground.

At first, my balance is off and I nearly trip. His shoulder catches me, holding me up until I get my bearings. After a few seconds, I'm finally able to stumble forward and stand on my own. My hand instinctively comes to the back of my head, lightly brushing against the base of my skull, where I'd hit my head. I can feel the injured area, which is sensitive to my touch, but the blood which was gushing there seems to have stopped itself. Or...

"I tried to clean it up as best I could after you blacked out." he answers for me. "I had some gauze and paper towels in my bag. Seemed to do the trick. You'll need to wash it later, though. Prevent infection."

I want to answer with my voice, but the continued throbs, which I can feel all the way down to my toes now, keep me from saying anything. I offer a pained nod in its place. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead starts to move. Spotting a clears spot in a tree not to far off the ground, he secures his rather large backpack there and then begins to advance towards me, causing me to shoot him a puzzled glance.

"I can come back for it later." he says. "The creepers won't touch it. Besides..."

He pauses as he comes astride me, slipping an arm underneath mine, and then wrapping my arm around his neck to help me stay upright.

"...You look like you could use a little help."

I stare at him for what seems like forever, but in reality was probably only a few seconds, before croaking out a: "Why?"

He flashes me a toothy grin, which is surprisingly lively given how tired he is: "I'd have to be a real douche to let a guy with a banged up head walk alone out here in a forest full of creepers." he replies, his Southern accent becoming particularly thick.

Its only then that I notice his eyes, which glimmer from the sunlight striking them from the side. They're blue like mine, only a duller blue. In fact, they're almost a misty color, whereas mine really stand out. But what really stands out isn't the color, but rather, despite the fact that he was close to collapsing carrying me and all his other junk this far, they seemed full of determination. So I simply nodded at him again, and the two of us began walking back in the direction of the neighborhood. As we walked, I suddenly remembered what he had said earlier:

_Wouldn't kill you to remember my name, would it?_

He had said it jokingly, but I suddenly found myself feeling somewhat bad for not being able to remember. Shoving my pain to the side for a moment, I open my dry mouth to ask.

"So, what was your name again?"

He doesn't look at me this time. Eyes straight ahead towards our destination.

"You really can't remember, can you?" he replies. When I don't respond, he gives a light chuckle. "Tanner."

"Right." is the only word that comes out of my mouth.

My already injured pride keeps me from expressing my gratitude. Inwardly I curse myself. Yesterday, I had boldly told my unconscious father that I would be just fine if he died. And yet, since then, I had come close to death twice. Saving myself on one occasion, and saved by another on this occasion. All I could do is hang my head in defeat and continue to inwardly curse myself for being so weak. If I had only been better... stronger... Maybe I could've protected the others at the prison. I can feel angry tears stabbing the back of my eyes, but I fight to keep them hidden. I don't want Tanner to see them fall. Didn't want him to see me weaker than he already had. But when he glances at me, I get the sense that he has noticed something, because he decides to speak again.

"So... I... uh... Never got your name." he stutters.

I look down in silence. We're reaching the edge of the woods now.

_I shouldn't tell him my name. I should just try to get back on my own. He'll see where we're staying. Where Dad is..._

**_But he saved__ you._**

_I told myself not to trust anyone. They all turn into monsters at the end._

**_Not all of them. _**

_But he's in bad shape too and..._

**_He saved me._**

"Carl." I finally force out. My eyes drifting upward. I can now see the house Dad and I are staying at. "Carl Grimes."

* * *

**A/N:**** Whew, that one took longer than I expected, but I hope it was worth it! Now, as promised, I'll reply to some of the few reviews I got for the first chapter. If there is a fair amount of reviews, each chapter I might dedicate a section at the bottom to do this.**

**HeadedCoffee:****That was my original thought, to leave out the smut, and I still might. Just depends. Its not necessarily that, I'm uncomfortable with it, its just... oh, well, let's be honest, I'm not very good at it haha Least in my opinion, anyways. Plus, I want it to be natural. Not just something I write for the "nosebleed factor" xD hahaha So, if I do decide to add smut laterish, I might contact you to bounce ideas off of. You're always welcome to PM me too if you have suggestions. I'm always up to hear it. Thanks for your review :)**

**Youngblooded:**** Glad you enjoyed the first chapter :) Hope this one is just as enjoyable for you. I noticed the lack of Carl/Male OC's on here, and while there is a particular over-abundance of Carl/Patrick stories, I wanted to branch out and do something different. And yes, I did decide to go ahead and move along in the timeline and set this after the prison. Most fanfics here take place at the prison, probably because of the reduced overall danger behind the prison's fences, which allow those stories to play out the way they do. And while I have nothing against the prison, I thought it would add a better, more tenacious dynamic to the story if they were out in the open where danger is always lurking around the next corner. Makes for better character development, in my opinion, and provides a foundation for their bond to grow. Thank you for the review, I do hope you stick with me 'till the end :)**

**ChandlerRiggs:**** Thank you. I hope this one and the ones to come are enjoyable for you!**

**Guest:**** I think I mentioned this at the beginning of the chapter, but just in case I forgot: You will definitely get more of Carl's P.o.V. Once I get more comfortable writing as Carl, he'll get more and more of the chapters dedicated to him, so that it evens out between the two of them fairly well. And then, once I bring in Michonne (whose role in all of this, I'm still deciding) I'll add in some of her P.o.V occasionally as well. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and continue enjoying :)**

**Wow, thanks to all four of you for your feedback. Keep 'em coming guys! The chapters will be coming out steadily. I don't have an exact timetable and personal life business prevents me from writing as often as I'd like, but I'll at least try to pump out one or two a week. More if I have free time.**

**Later!**


	3. The Things I Wish To Protect

_I'm running..._

_Running fast..._

_Is somebody behind me? There are grunts, snarls, gnashing; but whenever I look back all I see is black. I'm in the woods!_

_The air is full of smoke. Its so strong that its searing my nostrils, but I just keep running. Through the brush. Through the trees. Ignoring the thorns and sharp twigs as they slash into my sides. I can feel the sweat drenching my face, dripping off drop after drop as I plunge towards the edge of the trees. I can see a light ahead. Faint, but bright enough to draw my attention. And so I'm diving for it. My heart is beating so hard, it feels as though its about to burst through my chest. I can feel my pulse in my head and all the way down to my toes. The noises are getting louder..._

_But suddenly, I'm free of the darkness. Out of the trees._

_And there is blood..._

_Blood everywhere._

_I'm stepping in it! And then I look at my hands..._

_And there's blood there too..._

####

Jolting upright, I can immediately feel the coolness of the night air bringing me back to my senses. I'm drenched in sweat, causing a dark ring to form around the collar of my T-shirt. As my sight focuses, I finally realize where I am. The house. The house that Carl was staying at. He had let me in after I had helped him out of the woods. He had led me upstairs to a bedroom, which appeared to have once belonged to a teenage boy, and told me I could sleep here for the night. And so that is where I was. Not at the camp: the camp outside of Atlanta. I rested my face in my palms, breathing heavily as my pulse started to go back to normal. It had been awhile since I had dreamed that intensely. I was just beginning to believe the nightmares were starting to fade, but perhaps they never would.

Slowly, I raise myself out of the bed, stretching a bit. I instantly regret doing so, wincing as the wounds I incurred from yesterday's little event began to twinge with pain. I made my way to the bathroom, which was just around the corner. The moon was shining brilliantly through the side window, illuminating the room well enough for me to see every part of my surroundings. Glancing in the mirror, I immediately noticed my appearance.

_You look like shit...!_

And I do, which makes me smirk to myself somewhat. My face is covered with dried walker blood, mixed with dirt; hair standing on end, likely due to all the tossing and turning I do in my sleep; and eyelids dropping with fatigue. Slowly and carefully, I lift up my shirt to reveal the bruising as well as the cuts on the side of my torso. Only one of them looks particularly nasty, though the others don't exactly look the best either. I would need to clean them in the morning. The last thing I needed was an infection. Not ready to venture back to bed just yet, I decided to make my way down stairs, quietly so as not to wake up Carl. He was peacefully sleeping, curled up at the end of the couch where his dad had been asleep. The younger teen never explained to me what had happened to him, but it looked to me as though his father had been asleep for awhile, as he didn't stir when we came barging in the previous afternoon. I tiptoed past them into the small kitchen in the adjacent room and leaned up against the counter, glancing idly out the window.

The moon was quite beautiful. A perfect sphere in the sky, releasing ghostly light which dowsed most of the surroundings in a haunting glow. In the distance, I could make out the silhouettes of two walkers, as Carl called them, lurking in one of the yards across the street. Funny thing; as a small child, the thought of such monsters actually lurking so close to where I was sleeping would've terrified me. Now, though, you learned to adapt, and so I was used to the thought. A sudden scuffling sound behind me catches me by surprise, and I jump, spinning around to confront the source.

There, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, bathed in the full light of the moon, is Carl. He must've just woken up, because even though he's giving me an inquisitive look, he still appears to be quite sleepy.

"Why're you up?" he croaks groggily, rubbing his eyes.

"Rough dreams." I reply simply. He doesn't need to know what they're about. I honestly doubt he even cared.

Instead he just stood there and stared at me for a few more seconds. I couldn't tell whether it was just because he didn't know what to say, or because he was still half asleep and had nothing _too_ say. But, eventually, he nodded.

"How's your dad?" I ask, fully expecting him to give me the cold shoulder again, as he did when we first met and I had asked him who he was traveling with.

Carl glanced over his shoulder to the sleeping silhouette of his father, then shrugged as he turned back to me: "Still sleeping. So, fine, I guess."

The way he says it catches me as odd. There's an undertone of contempt to his voice. Like he truly didn't care if his father was truly okay or not. Despite his apparent coldness, Carl didn't strike me as the type to be completely unfeeling. Then again, I didn't really even know the kid, so it could just be mixed signals I was getting. Still, now that I was able to have a proper look at him in the moonlight, I have to admit, he was kind of attractive. The way his freckles accented his eyes, which glittered slightly in the direct moonlight; thin frame with the undertone of strong muscles beginning to form underneath. I particularly liked his hair when it was messy like it was now. I must've stared too long, because he gave me another odd look.

"Well," I suddenly said, breaking the awkward silence, completely aware that I could feel my cheeks heating up. "I should probably try to get some rest. In the morning, I'll go out and get my backpack. Its got some decent supplies in it and you'll need to clean that wound on the back of your head."

He continued to eye me suspiciously for a moment. There was a glint of curiosity in his eyes, but I couldn't figure out why that may be. He eventually nodded again and turned to head back to where he was sleeping. It struck me right there that there was something he was holding back. Something he wanted to say but either thought he shouldn't, or couldn't. Whatever the case, I began to make my way back up the stairs to my room. Perhaps a little more sleep would clear my foggy head and allow me to assess this situation more clearly.

Lowering myself back into my mattress, upon reaching the bedroom, my mind was immediately spinning. It was such a weird thing to get used to, being with others, after having been on my own since... the camp. I had told myself it was probably better that I was on my own, and yet, here I was. Not only sleeping in a house inhabited by two other survivors, but finding myself rather attracted to one of them. How? Two days ago, if you had told me that I would've saved a kid close to my age, I would've laughed at you. Hard. After the Atlanta camp, I had wanted nothing to do with other survivors. Even if it meant to save their lives.

And yet...

An image of Carl from earlier, bathed in the light of the moon, sleepy eyes drooped, flashed into my head. I can feel my teeth gritting. Its just infatuation. I know that. I've been a teenager for seven years, so I know what its like to become attracted to someone on sight. Its one of the emotions I wish I could kill completely. Its an utterly useless feeling... But despite that... I can't get him out of my head.

And that makes me want to stay...

####

Morning breaks much quicker than I expected. My muscles are screaming causing me to wince in pain as I slowly sit up in bed. If the soreness wasn't bad enough, the cuts on my side were throbbing as well.

_Looks like I won't be doing much today... _

More to the point, I couldn't do _anything_ today. Not in this condition. I'd been far too hard on myself yesterday, so I guess that meant I'd be staying with Carl for the foreseeable future. If he let me, that is. Getting down the stairs is quite the adventure in and of itself. My aching muscles are stiff, which makes descending the steps a painful experience. Carl is still dozing when I reach the base of the stairs. He's sitting against the edge of the couch, where his dad is still sleeping, legs pulled up tight to his chest, arms around his knees, and head resting in between those knees. Part of me wonders how that could even be comfortable, but I shake my head of the thought. He must've been sleeping lightly, however, because he stirs as I pass him.

"Where are you going?" he groans and I realize he must be in as much pain as I am.

"I need to get my backpack from the woods." I reply, snatching my swords, which are leaned up against the wall just beside the back door. "There's some supplies in there that we can't risk losing."

He nods and suddenly stands up, snatching his gun off a small coffee table nearby him, and clipping it to his leg. I shoot him a puzzled glance in response.

"I'm coming with you." he replies simply.

"Uh, don't you think you should rest?" I say, not realizing exactly how concerned I sound all of a sudden. "You got pretty banged up yesterday."

He flashes me a cold stare, which kind of takes me aback.

"I'll be fine."

His voice oozes with contempt. Apparently, concern wasn't something he liked being shown. Either that or something had happened to him in the past that I was unaware of. Of course, it could just be his pride too. I couldn't be sure which so I decided to drop the argument and merely nodded in response, pulling open the backdoor and stepping out into the brisk Georgia morning.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

We walk through the neighborhood in silence.

Its a fairly nice morning, but for whatever reason, I'm feeling particularly grumpy this morning. Frustration was rising in me, and it had peeked when Tanner had asked me to stay behind and "rest". It was the same treatment I always got from Dad and the others. That I constantly needed to be protected. The fact that he actually _had_ saved me the other day only made matters worse. Still, for whatever reason, I couldn't stay mad at the guy. He didn't know me and he was only trying to help. I glance ahead at him. He's only about a couple feet ahead of me. The look on his face suggests he's deep in thought about something. I've noticed that about him since last night. He has the tenancy to stare off into space for a long time.

_Wonder what he's thinking about..._

I decide that I'm going to break the silence, as I so often had to. Perhaps talking to him would make up for the way I snapped at him earlier.

"So, where were you before you came... here?" I ask awkwardly.

He snaps from his daze and glances over his shoulder at me, his misty blue eyes studying me carefully, though he continues walking regardless.

"You mean before this neighborhood?" I nod. "Well..." he continues. "I've never stayed in one place for more than a week or so. But when this all started, I was in Atlanta. What about you?"

My eyes suddenly avert his gaze. And the memories come back. Of the camp outside Atlanta. The farm. The prison. He must've noticed the look on my face, because he offers me a small, but genuine, smile.

"Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't feel like it." he says. "You're here now. That's more than a lot of people can say."

He's right. People like Dale, and Shane, Mom and Hershel and Andrea.

_And Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Daryl, Michonne... Judith..._

_They're all gone, but you're here._

"Before here," I start to say without realizing it. "We lived at a prison. We had cleared out a few of the cell blocks and thought it was safe. Lived there for several months... and then..."

_And then **he** came and destroyed it all._

My blood surged with heat at the thought of the Governor. I hoped he was rotting back in that prison yard, or that walkers had torn him to shreds. Dad had told me Michonne had stabbed him. But even that was to good an end for a miserable fucker like him.

"And then?" Tanner's voice snaps me from my heated day dream.

"And then a really bad man came and destroyed it." I nearly snarl, my anger still boiling.

Tanner's eyes soften. And all of a sudden I'm struck at how understanding they seem. Dad never looked at me like that. Not Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Daryl, Michonne. None of them. Not even Mom. But there was one... And its then I realize how much the look he's giving me reminds me of Hershel. Hershel was a man of seemingly infinite patience and wisdom. He was strong, compassionate, and understanding beyond any human I had ever met in my young life. I used to think that Hershel was unique. That nobody else could possibly be like him. And then I saw another similarity.

_Both Tanner and Hershel saved my life._

In different ways, of course, but the merit is there.

We reach the woods. Almost as if preparing against a repeat of yesterday, Tanner unsheathes the sword on his waist. Taking a cue from him, I draw my gun, keeping it low at my side; just in case. The walk is much easier this time around. Though my head is still throbbing from where I hit it the day before, I'm able to walk unsupported, which makes reaching the tree he'd left his backpack in much faster. As we come upon it, he quickly surveys the area and then yanks it down from the branches, sitting it gently against the ground and opening it up.

"I have peroxide, for cleaning the wounds, and gauze to soak it up." he mentions, waving the items at me. "Of course, there's food and other things I've collected in here too."

I nod and, for the first time, offer him a genuine smile; though a small one. He seems to notice this and grins back.

####

"So how about before all of this?"

Its Tanner. We're nearly out of the woods again, albeit moving slower than before. Tanner's muscles are particularly sore after yesterday's exertion and the added weight seems to be slowing him down to an extent.

"You know? Before the world went to shit."

"I lived outside of Atlanta." I replied. "With my mom and my dad. Dad was a cop. You?"

I don't know why I was opening up to him. Initially I hadn't wanted to, but telling him about the prison had relieved some of the anger and resentment that was crushing down on me, so I figured a little more couldn't hurt.

"Well, I'm originally from Texas. I got accepted into college in Atlanta when I was about to turn seventeen. My parents were always sticklers for grades when I was younger, so I guess that paid off. But it wasn't to be in the end. Shit hit the fan about a week later." he explained to me.

So he was seventeen, then. That made him almost a year and half older than me, since my sixteenth birthday was approaching. And, even though he wasn't much taller than me, he did look a lot older; sporting a broader chest and shoulders and a bit more muscle than I have. My eyes quickly darted to the side once I realized I was staring. He must've noticed because he merely shook his head, which made my cheeks darken. I decided to avert the awkwardness of the situation by asking another question.

"Where did you learn to use those swords?" I indicated to the two; one on his hip, the other on his back, concealed by his backpack.

"It was a hobby of mine." he replied quickly. "My parents always used to think I was some kind of nerd because I liked them rather than guns. But I'd say they do me just fine these days."

He was right. He never needed to reload his weapon. And he was good at using them. I still think Michonne was better at using her's, but then again, I know very little about swords. Only she could tell me for sure... and she was...

"What's the matter?"

_Damn his observation talents._

"Nothing, its just..." I picked my words carefully. "A friend of mine... from the prison... used to use a sword like your long one. I never understood how she got so good with it."

"Really now?" he sort of chuckled, glancing up at the morning sky. "She must've had something important to protect."

Now that was an odd thing to say.

"What do you mean by that?"

He stopped walking and turned towards me, causing me to stop too: "Oh sorry, that's just the nerd side of me comin' out. See, there's this old saying, among the samurai who originally used swords like these... A warrior's sword is an extension of their soul. Something the use to protect what they care about."

Ah, so he was the philosophical type. Like Dale... And Hershel...

"Does that mean..." I begin. "You have something to protect to?"

His eyes suddenly soften again. Glazing over, as though he was reaching way back into the past for a precious memory. But then his eyes narrow, in an almost mournful fashion, and he glances down at his feet. He only stays that way for a moment before a small smirk comes to his lips.

"No. Not yet anyways." he finally replies. "But I'd like to think that I will, someday. So I think if I keep holding on to these, eventually that something will show itself."

Its a profound thing to admit. And, in a way, I can tell that he's being completely serious. This sentiment meant something to him. I was curious as to why, but decided not to press him any further. And so we continued our walk...

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully.

Upon returning to the house, I taught Carl how to clean the gash on the back of his neck; though I had to help him somewhat, because his long hair made the task particularly challenging. I then did the same for my own cuts and gashes. I was surprised at how chatty he was becoming. He went from stone wall, to talking with me about just about everything. We talked about our hobbies before the infection, our school lives, and friends we had been around in that life. I did notice that he skipped around talking about his time at the prison, so I avoided the topic as well, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable when he was just starting to open up to me. His dad, whose name I now knew to be Rick, continued through his coma; another topic I never mentioned. Because we were nearing the end of the third day, according to Carl, that he had been in it. There was always that chance he would never pull out of it and I feared to think of what Carl might be like if that were to happen.

Eventually, the sun began to set, and I proposed we both go to bed early; so as to let our bodies continue to recover. And he found that to be a sound idea. I was hoping for tonight to be much calmer and more peaceful than the night before, but, as I've learned so often; the second I wish for something, the opposite occurs.

I started out sleeping rather peacefully. But I was jolted from this peaceful slumber at the sound of a loud _THUD_ coming from downstairs. I listened carefully, making sure it wasn't just a figment of my imagination. It was silent for several seconds, and then I could hear movement. Faint, but movement nonetheless. Immediately, my pulse began to race. Of course, the first thing I could think of was walkers. I didn't know how they would have managed to get into the house, but then again, you could never really predict the undead. Unfortunately for me, I had left my weapons downstairs, as I had the previous night. So I grabbed the next best thing. Bolting over to the bedroom window, I quickly detached the small curtain rod, dumping the curtains it held on the floor. I then began to make my way down the stairs. At this point, I could hear more clearly what was going on.

"Carl..."

_Okay, new voice._ Was my immediate thought.

It was deeper. Raspy. Almost in pain. And their were other sounds. Sobbing. **_Hard_ **sobbing. I froze in place, mid-way down the stairwell, allowing the curtain rod I held to drop gently to my side.

"...stay safe. Stay..."

I lost the last word, but I'm pretty sure I knew what it was: "safe". The sobbing came harder now, but I could tell from the pitch of the voice, that it was a different person from the original speaker. I inched myself two more steps, being now only a few from the bottom. A faint whisper drifts up, but its far too soft for me to make out the words. My pulse has abated, finally reassured that there is no immediate danger. And so, I begin to turn to ascend the steps again, but something prevents me from moving. A tug deep inside that told me I should go down further. Just to be sure everything was alright.

_It isn't your business. _

Ah, ever the voice of reason.

It isn't my business. And yet, my feet begin to move, and in moments I'm at the base of the stairs. The moonlight illuminating the room isn't as bright as it was the previous night, but there is enough to make out the scene before me. In the center of the room, Rick was lying, having somehow fallen off the couch and onto the ground. Carl was hovering above him, crosslegged on the ground, head drooped. He was shuttering violently, whispering something to himself, or Rick. I really couldn't tell. Obviously he was the source of the sobs. Somewhere in all of this, I managed to find my voice:

"Carl?"

His head snaps up, startled, and glares at me. What little moonlight is peaking into the room catches the glint of his tears as they gently streak down his face. Its a heartbreaking sight. Even in the woods the day prior, I had never seen Carl look so fragile, shaken, and scared. Even to an outsider like me, I could tell he was finally at his breaking point. The anger and contempt that he was keeping inside, for reasons I'd still yet to truly discover, were coming unglued and he was struggling to keep his composure as it gave way to the true feelings concealed inside. And so, I did the only thing I could do. The only thing I _should_ do. And, ironically, the thing I'd never done for anyone up until this point:

Closing the distance between us, I dropped down beside him, landing firmly on my bottom. Scooting up next to him, I reached out slowly, gently, unsure how he'll react to this, and lay a hand on his shoulder. At first he stiffens at my touch, but before long, he begins to relax. I use the opportunity to tighten my grip and pull him into an embrace. He allows me to do so rather easily and I squeeze tightly once he's finally against me. Soon he starts shuddering again, and I know the crying has resumed. And so I'm silent. Silent but soothing, gently rubbing his upper arm and holding him tight. And though he says nothing to me in response, nothing but the silent, quite sobs he's making into my shoulder, I know what he's thinking. What he's feeling.

_Because that was me._

_After the camp in Atlanta, I was so afraid and there was no one there to soothe my fears._

I squeeze tighter.

_Well, I won't let that happen to you. _

I begin to think back to our conversation earlier in the day, when he had asked me about my swords.

_"Does that mean you have something to protect too?"_ He had asked me that. And I had answered him truthfully. I didn't. I didn't trust myself to protect anyone. Not after Atlanta. And yet, I still clung to the hope that one day, I might be able to prove myself. To right my wrongs and protect someone I care about from this cruel reality. Well, here was my chance. Because despite the fact that I've only known him a short time, I am beginning to care about Carl. So perhaps... at least for now... It wouldn't be so bad to be around other people.

His shutters slow and I realize that he has begun to, unintentionally, fall asleep. All of the crying he had done was sapping the last remnants of his strength, forcing him into slumber. Right on me, no less.

_This is going to be hard to explain in the morning,_ I nearly chuckled at that thought.

"Everything will be okay." I whisper to him as his breathing steadies.

_Until you need me no longer... I'll protect you._

* * *

**A/N: ****Kind of a sappy ending for a chapter, but I think it fits. Obviously I'm spreading out Rick's coma a bit. Gives me more room to work with xD Michonne should make her entrance in the next chapter. Oh, and for those who may wonder if I'm ever going to explain what Tanner keeps referring to when he mentions what happened in "the camp" or the "Atlanta camp", there is an explanation coming eventually. Its a crucial part of his character, though, so I kinda have to mention it here and there. Plus, adds mystery :3**

**Review and comment! Hope this was enjoyable. Until the next one!**


	4. Reunion

**A/N: To start off, I want to thank all of you who have followed/favorited/reviewed on this story even though its still in its infancy. You all are my inspiration to continue on. Since I've had a significant amount of reviews come in, there will be a section at the end of the chapter where I will try to respond to all of them, but I thought it was important to start off the chapter correctly. A writer's greatest joy is the their reader's interest and enjoyment. I hope this chapter is only a continuation of that. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

In the past, I've heard it said that love will sneak up on you at the most unexpected time.

I have an addition to that.

Love not only sneaks up on you at an unexpected time, but the location, as well as the person themself is a total shock. A week ago, I would've never believed that I would run into a kid my age, in the middle of this hell of a world, and actually develop feelings for him. The _him_ part was also a total surprise to me. Before shit hit the fan, and the world collapsed, I was the type of kid that avoided romantic involvement with anyone like the plague. For one, I didn't think it was possible for anyone to like _me_. And that was still a fear of mine. I was the dweeby kid in my school, even if my physical appearance wouldn't suggest it. And so, with that mentality, came inexperience. I didn't know what, or whom, I would be interested in. My parents, being the staunch Southern traditionalists that they were, pressured me towards getting a girlfriend many times in high school, but it just wasn't something I felt... right with. After the world went to shit, I had given up on love altogether. The desire to survive took over completely.

But now. Two days after I had held Carl, while he wept into my shoulder, eventually falling asleep in my arms, even I had to admit that I was completely, totally, love struck.

Some people would call it Cupid's Bow, but my pride simply wouldn't allow _me_ to call it that. And I hadn't admitted it to Carl, either. Perhaps I never would. Only time would tell.

After his breakdown, Carl had told me everything. About the original Atlanta camp he had been in, about the farm, and then, finally, about the prison - which I knew something about. As he filled in the blanks of what little I knew about him, I finally began to comprehend why he was initially so distrustful of me. He had nearly burst into tears a second time when he told me about his mother and then his little sister, both of whom had met rather gruesome ends at the prison, albeit at different times. Of course, this didn't put an end to his often cold behavior, but I at least now knew that he trusted me enough to let me in on occasion.

I had begun believe I really had a chance as long I stuck with Carl.

But I should know better than to get comfortable in this new world. Today the dynamics would shift again... In a way I should've expected by this point:

####

Carl and I found ourselves in the kitchen when we first heard the noises coming from the living room. Neither of us was saying anything. Instead, we were simply eating our afternoon meal in peace. Carl had heard the first noise, a grunt, which drew his attention. Then I had heard the same. We both glanced at each other with bewildered expressions and then darted from our spot at the table to the living room, where Rick was laying. As I was beginning to suspect, Rick was finally awakening from his several-day-long coma. My initial reaction was happiness. Not exactly because Rick was waking up, but because the look on Carl's face, full of hope and relief that his Dad was finally coming out of his slumber, warmed my insides. I should've, however, been preparing for Rick's reaction to seeing a stranger in the house.

"Carl," he snarled, still adjusting to being awake. "Who is this? Why is he here?"

Rick's voice was full of defensiveness. I understood him to a degree. He was a father and Carl was all he had left. I was a newcomer. A threat. I was just lucky that he didn't have his gun on him or this might end badly. In fact, it still might.

"Dad," Carl said, his voice soft yet gruff - something that was more appealing to me than I had originally thought. "You've been out for five days. Tanner helped me while you were asleep."

"Helped you?" Rick is clearly not satisfied with that answer. He throws an inquisitive glare at me, before returning his gaze to Carl.

Carl glanced back at me, as if to look for support, and then opened his mouth to speak, but I intervened.

"Your son went looking for supplies while you were out. Seems like you were running low. Some walkers surprised him and cornered him, so I gave him a hand in dealing with them." I explained truthfully. I then nodded in the direction of my large backpack, which was propped up against the coffee table nearby. "As it turns out, I have quite a bit of supplies myself. I figured I'd help Carl out while you were out."

Rick's eyes dart between myself and Carl. Carl's expression softens and he nods at his father to confirm that my words are the truth. At first he doesn't say anything, bowing his head as if in deep thought, and then he looked up, staring at me with narrowed eyes. The look he gave me took me back a little bit, because it was the same kind of hard, inquisitive glares Carl gave me whenever he really wanted to figure out something about me. Like father, like son, I suppose.

"And what do you plan to do now that I'm awake?"

Even at only seventeen years old, I'm not blind. The question is a test. Rick's way of learning whether my intentions are self-serving or beneficial to himself and his son. Carl looks at me, clearly intrigued himself. I offer him a soft smile before returning my gaze to Rick.

"With your permission, sir," I throw that word in for added politeness. Though, in reality, its a word I very rarely used. "I'd like to stick around if you'll have me. Its been awhile since I've been around people. Carl and I get along pretty well, and I'm good at scavenging, so I promise not to be a burden."

Rick quickly glances at Carl, and then back to me: "That's a place you'll have to earn."

I'm prepared to accept that. If I can prove myself to Carl, then I should eventually be able to prove myself to Rick too. But Carl doesn't let it drop there. Instead, he takes a step forward, garnering his father's gaze once more. And the words that come out of his mouth both surprise me and make me very happy at the same time.

"Dad," he says simply. "He saved my life. He's earned his place already."

####

I wasn't expecting Rick to accept me immediately.

Hell, it had taken Carl a few days to get used to me being around. But the man seemed increasingly aggravated, so I kept my distance.

He and Carl seemed to be on good terms, though. Carl filled his father in on the events of the past couple of days, including the losing of his shoe, which is when he had originally met me. He re-explained what I already had, about the walkers that had cornered him in the woods, and how I had came to his aid right before a walker could make a meal out of him. Rick didn't react to the story as I expected; simply nodding as Carl told it. Afterwords, Carl indicated to his father that we were going to step outside and get some fresh air, but that we wouldn't go far. Rick responded by glaring at me, rather menacingly, before accepting. And believe me when I say that I'm glad to be out of there. So much so that I exhale a sigh of relief once we're finally outside the house.

"Sorry about that," he says, slipping his hands into his pockets. "He's not really a bad guy. It's just..."

Suddenly, I become aware at how insensitive I've been. The tension I've been feeling hasn't just been felt by me, but it seems that it has affected Carl. I sigh and offer a smile to him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Its fine." I reply. "To be honest, I'd be a little concerned if he _didn't_ react this way to me."

Carl flashes me one of his signature inquisitive stares, so I elaborate.

"You know the answer already. The way the world is now, its kill or be killed. I'm a stranger and therefore pose a pretty significant threat. Your dad is just looking out for you. I'd expect it."

"But you came to my aid in the woods. We both told him that. It should be enough."

Carl's stubbornness on the matter is almost cute. A few day ago, he wouldn't have given a rat's ass if his dad accepted me or not, so his sudden determination to have me accepted by his father is heartwarming to some extent.

"He'll understand eventually." I reply. "Just give him some time."

Carl seems to accept this answer, though he doesn't seem to happy about it. The truth was, I was in no hurry to be accepted by Rick. I was happy to just give him the space and the time he needed. Its not like I suddenly lost my independence over the past few days, so even if I had to distance myself from both he and Carl for a time, I knew it'd eventually pay off. Of course, surprises come in clusters these days, and another one was about to pay us a visit. We had gone back indoors after about half an hour of idle chattering outside between each other. Rick seemed to have cooled down a little, which I passed off as just having woken up a bit more than he was earlier. He and Carl were sitting against the sofa that had been Rick's bed, eating their share of dinner. I was leaned up against a nearby wall doing the same. None of us talked, but occasionally Carl would glance over at me, almost like he wanted to make sure I was still there. We were all jolted out of our peaceful thoughts when there was a loud knock on the door.

On instinct, Carl had drawn his gun, pointing it at the door. I had also grabbed the longer of my two weapons, though I hadn't drawn it yet. Rick surveyed the room once before crawling onto the sofa and peeking through the view hole in the door. Both Carl and I shot each other curious glances, however, when Rick began to chuckle and then collapse onto the couch. Carl turned his questioning gaze on his father, who offered him yet another smile.

"Its for you."

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

When I untied the cords I had wrapped as a makeshift lock around the front door, the last person I expected to see what Michonne.

And yet, upon pulling the door open, there she was. Whatever my initial reaction was _going_ to be was lost in the tears that suddenly burst from my eyes. I nearly knocked her down as I flung my arms around her in a tight embrace. One she returned with equal vigor. Tears seemed to be in her eyes too and that only made me cry harder. After all this time, I was beginning to think Dad and I were truly the only survivors of the prison incident, and yet, here was Michonne; alive and well. It brought sudden and extreme relief to my heart, the likes of which I thought I'd never feel again. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we released each other and I let her enter the house, shutting the door behind us. At first, she just looked around, I guess to see where we were staying now. She then looked at Dad and wrapped him in a hug, which, to my surprise, he returned almost as strongly as I had.

"We didn't see you in the wreckage." Dad began to explain to her. "If we had known you had survived we would've..."

"You did the right thing." she interjected, her voice soft, yet firm as always. "You had other priorities to worry about."

That's when she took notice of Tanner, who had remained at the back of the room, observing us silently. She said nothing to him, and he nothing to her. Dad seemed to catch on and was quick to explain:

"This is a friend of Carl's. Tanner."

She regarded him with a nod and he returned the gesture. In a way, I felt really awful for Tanner. For us, this was a reunion of family. Michonne may not have been related in anyway to us, nor had she been a member of our group very long, but to me she was just like a member of my family. And I believe Dad felt the same. Tanner, on the other hand, had no one. He'd been on his own this entire time. I imagine seeing a reunion like this was probably awkward for him, so I shot him a soft smile, hoping it'd raise his spirits somewhat.

"Where have you been all this time?" Dad finally broke the silence, regarding Michonne again.

"Went back." she replied, obviously referring to the prison. "Nothing left of the place but smoke and walkers."

Dad nodded solemnly. In a way, the prison's fall was his greatest defeat. It was his crowning achievement as the group's leader: having found them a safe place to stay. Free of anxiety and the fear of losing their loved ones again. By letting the Governor escape after the first attempt, only to return and destroy that safe haven, damaged Dad in ways I don't think I'll ever truly understand.

"I imagine you're hungry." Dad said, changing the subject. "Come on. Carl and his friend helped bring us some food while I was out cold. Let's eat and then we can talk some more."

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Another day passed.

With the sudden return of Michonne, Rick was more occupied with catching up with her than worrying about my addition to this slowly growing group. In a way, I was happy that the attention was off me. Less pressure. But luckily, I had Carl to keep me company. I hated to admit it, but I was beginning to really enjoy being around him. To the point where, when he was away, either talking to Michonne, or doing something for his dad, I missed him. The feelings still confused me, but I was beginning to accept them. On this particular day, however, Carl was doing a task for Rick; something involving fortifying the front yard; and so, rather than distract him, I decided to lay myself out in the backyard and enjoy the cool Georgian afternoon. Which is why it surprised me when Michonne finally decided to take an interest in me, coming out and sitting near me in the grass.

"Where's Rick?" I ask, curious as to why she'd all of the sudden bother with me.

"Sleeping." she replied. I'd begun to notice that she wasn't a woman of many words, but what she said was short and to the point. "He's still not feeling good."

I nod. Its to be expected I guess.

We sit in silence for a few moments before she breaks it once more.

"You and Carl," she begins, causing me to tilt my head so that I can see her better. "Seems you two get along pretty well."

"Yeah, he's coming around." I reply. "At first, he was as happy about me being here as Rick seems to be. But we've ironed a few things out. He's a pretty neat kid."

"Rick is a lot more thankful of you than he lets you believe." she informs me, which shocks me a bit. "He told me how you protected Carl from those walkers. So yeah, he may not show it, but he is thankful to you."

I snort a short laugh, "They're both hard to read sometimes."

She chuckles a tad herself, which makes the first time I've heard her laugh, "Yeah, they can be like that."

I suddenly begin to understand why Carl had gotten close to Michonne. She comes across as the strong-silent type, but she's actually quite perceptive. I can easily see how the two of them can be friends, despite the age difference.

"Just be good to him, whatever you do." Again her words cause me a little bit of alarm, as I'm not sure exactly what she's talking about. "Carl." she clarifies. "He's been through a lot. Lost a lot. Friends and family. I've seen the way you look at him. Its obvious you care. He needs a friend his own age and gender. So be good to him."

I suppose I had never realized Michonne would be _that_ perceptive. So she had even been watching the way I looked at Carl and deduced my budding feelings for him all on her own. If I was being _that_ obvious, I would need to work on my cover a bit better. Still, it was a nice sentiment, her looking out for Carl, while accepting our budding friendship at the same time. Its almost funny that she would accept me before Rick did, but I wasn't complaining. Carl eventually finished his task and came around back to join us. I was happy he was around. As nice as Michonne had just been to me, I felt more comfortable around him than either of the other two. He seemed to share my sentiment, because he sat down next to me, rather than Michonne.

"So, did you know Tanner uses swords too?" he says out of nowhere, directing the question at Michonne.

"Does he now?" she replies, grinning at me. "He any good?"

Carl nods with a grin of his own, "He's decent. Better than you'd think." Carl's tone is obviously joking and I'm really enjoying this more playful side of him. Michonne's return has really brightened his mood.

"I suppose I'll have to be the judge of that." she says. Another joke.

And suddenly, they're both chuckling. I realize its because my cheeks are on fire, which must mean I'm blushing, though whether from flattery of embarrassment, I'm not sure. But whatever the case, their laughter becomes contagious, and, for the first time in a year and a half, I let myself laugh along with them...

* * *

**A/N: Okay, this one was shorter than the others, but mainly because it is a transition chapter. Expect the next one to be quite lengthy. Though because of this, it may not come out until Saturday or Sunday. I've already started on it, but its crucial I get it right, so I apologize if it takes a little bit longer than the others. Also, I realize this one was a bit slower compared to the others, but again, the goal here was to bring Michonne into the picture. I hope I did decent with this ;-;**

**Now, as promised, reviews:**

**Stewee:**

**Thank you! Plenty more is on the way! :)**

**Youngblood:**

**I'm glad you're sticking with this story and that you enjoy it so much! The way you described Michonne's role is pretty much how I'm going to go with her. Still, she'll get a couple of cool scenes of her own. She's my favorite character in the series, next to Carl, so I think I'll enjoy having her finally be part of the story. And thanks for the advice! Thanks to you, I've decided to give the smut a shot, though it'll be a little later on. Like I said, I want it to happen naturally. But the good news is, the romance part of the story should finally be kicking into full gear after this chapter, so look forward to that :) I look forward to your continued reviews and hope you continue to enjoy!**

**Sophie:**

**Thank you for your review! And I agree with you. Carl has lacked male friends through much of his young life, so its interesting getting inside his head and seeing how he'd react to one. It definitely sets this story apart from some of the others drifting around out there. I will definitely keep them coming and thanks for reading!**

**Wow. Thank you guys so much. Again, even the simple reviews are encouragement and I really enjoy reading what you have to say. Like I said, expect the next one around Saturday or Sunday; Monday at the very latest. I'll be working on it very diligently to make it as best as I possibly can.**

**Until the next one! Later!**


	5. Tears In The Rain

There is one thing you should know about Carl Grimes: and its something you learn relatively fast if you're around him.

He's competitive. _Very_ competitive.

I should've guessed this, given his unusually large pride, but for whatever reason I remained ignorant. Until today, that was. See, I have the tendency to say really stupid things without thinking about them. So, when I proposed a race between us to the end of the block, I had expected one of our usual ego-centric joke sessions. Instead, he accepted my challenge, and that's how I ended up in my current position: lying flat on my back, arms splayed, legs spread, on the concrete in the middle of the road. I was drenched in sweat, leg muscles screaming, and it even pained me to breath. I had dropped into that position after a victorious Carl, who was a few feet away from me, had crossed our established "finish line" - a nearby stop sign. He had beaten my by a pretty wide margin. Seems that, when it came to stamina, Carl had more of it.

A lot more.

"Oh, get up already!" Carl barked at me, a joking tone to his voice, from where he was catching his own breath.

I manage a pained grin, "If I move, I think my heart will explode in my chest."

Though I said it in jest, that's truly what it felt like. My heart was beating so hard from the sudden exertion that it literally felt as though my entire body was thumping along with it. But Carl, not done rubbing his victory in my face, decides to walk over and hover just above me.

"_How_ exactly did you survive alone this entire time with walkers on your ass if you can't even keep up with me in a measly little race?" Carl joked sarcastically.

I opened my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him playfully.

"There's a difference between running to win a race and running to keep from being eaten." I retorted, which he only chuckled at.

Our attention was quickly drawn by the sound of Michonne emerging from the house, just down the street from where we were. She gave us a soft grin when she was we were both completely exhausted. She must've known we'd been up to our usual antics, as she was a lot more tolerable about it than Rick was. For the first time since she had returned, she had her own katana strapped around her torso, but what caught my eye was that she was carrying my swords, which I had left in the house when Carl and I had ventured out.

"We're going on a run." Michonne informed us when she finally got close enough.

"What about Dad?" Carl asked. Carl looked more confused than he was concerned. From what he had told me, Rick was always the first to volunteer to go on potentially dangerous assignments back before the prison. It must've struck Carl as odd that Rick wouldn't go on a run that involved myself, Michonne, and him.

"I convinced him to rest up. Just one more day." Michonne replied. "He needs it. So I'm taking you two as my back up."

She tossed me my weapons one at a time, which I caught with ease, even despite the fact that my muscles were now insanely sore. I suppose, in that way, Carl was more prepared than me. He never left the house without his gun, whereas I had left a few times without either of my swords. In hindsight, it was probably a very stupid thing for me to do, but walker activity had been fairly lax around the neighborhood lately, so I hadn't felt the need. Now it was my turn to ask the question:

"Where are we going? Carl and I have already gotten most of the useful stuff from these houses." I gestured to the neighborhood behind us.

She nodded, "We're going to go to the neighborhood just beyond this one. A little ways up the road. We'll try to find a decent vehicle while we're there."

That seemed like a pretty sound plan. I myself had planned to get a vehicle prior to getting involved with Carl, back when I had planned to leave the neighborhood behind forever. It suddenly hit me how close I was to being truly alone. If I had ignored my gut feeling and kept going when I had heard all the commotion in those woods, Carl would probably be dead, and I would've never met these people, who were beginning to feel more and more like family to me. I snapped out of my daze when I noticed both Carl and Michonne were giving me a concerned expression. As it turns out, I zone out way too much for a healthy person.

####

The walk to the adjacent neighborhood was peaceful. None of us really talked much, each of us keeping pretty much to our own thoughts. During the course of the journey, I reflected on my situation. After a full week had passed, I had stopped counting the days since I had met Carl. Before him, I had counted them out of wanting to keep my sanity. Keep some semblance of my old life. And, in many ways, I did it out of anxiety. But now that I had a friend, and one that I truly enjoyed being around, it began to seem like time didn't matter much any longer. He still had his moments, from time to time, in which the pain inside of him would manifest in the cold, distant individual I had originally met, but it seemed that having someone to be his own age with, coupled with the knowledge that Michonne had survived the prison had improved his overall mood drastically.

I have to admit, I was fairly pleased with my role in the whole matter, though I said nothing to him about it.

We reached the neighborhood just as the sun took its place at the highest point in the sky and immediately I could tell a difference between it and the one we were living in currently. Walkers. Not a huge number of them, but enough for Michonne to throw her arm out, bringing our little troop march to a grinding halt. She motioned to us to follow her and so we did, ducking behind a small SUV in the driveway of the first home.

"There aren't that many of them." she said in a hushed tone. "Tanner, you and I will take separate sides of the street and take them out. Carl, you have the gun, so you cover us from here. Anything in our blindspots, you take it out."

We both nodded and I got up, circling around the opposite side of the car from Michonne and setting off across the street. I drew the katana slung over my back, deciding to go with the long blade for once, and across the street, Michonne was doing the same thing. With a quick glance behind me, I saw Carl kneeling behind the SUV, gun pointed straight ahead, resting on the hood of the car. I gave him a courtesy grin and then turned my attention to the task at hand. One of the undead had already caught sight of me, snarling and reaching in front of itself, with its rotting arms, attempting to grab at me. I casually flicked me sword at it, cutting into the skull. Though the cut didn't go all the way through, it cut directly into the brain, which was enough for the rotting creature to drop dead. The noise caught the attention of two more of them, who came hobbling across the yard of one home, snarling hungrily at me. I twisted my body and brought my sword around in an arch, decapitating the first one. With a swift kick to the chest, the second walker collapsed backwards, allowing me an opening to ram the point of my blade right between its eyes.

I flinched as a shot rang out, and turned just in time to see a third walker's head explode. I glanced around behind me and threw up a "thumb's up" to Carl as a sign of gratitude. Across the street, Michonne had finished dealing with the last of the walkers on her side. After flicking the pooling blood on her own katana, she motioned towards Carl to approach her, and then did the same for me. We converged in the middle of the street, where she proceeded to layout the second phase of our operation:

"Let's split up." she said calmly. "We'll cover more ground that way. You two get that side of the street" she pointed to the side that I had cleared. "I'll take this side. Get only the necessities. We'll meet back at that first house at sundown."

Carl looked as though he was about to protest, and, knowing Carl, it was probably because he didn't feel right about Michonne going alone, but she was quick to silence him.

"I'll be fine. You two just stick together."

"We will." I assured her, patting Carl on the shoulder as I did. "Come one, let's get to it."

Carl nodded finally and turned to follow me, Michonne going the opposite direction. Carl was silent as we walked up the street, his gun still draped at his side. I selected a house, towards the end of the row, and approached the front door slowly, cautiously. This was the first time Carl and I were clearing a house together, and though I shouldn't have been, I was taken aback by his experience. I turned around to give him the game plan for entering, and he was already prepared; weapon drawn and ready for me to push the front door open. I merely smiled at him and turned to do my part. Predictably, the door was locked, so I launched the tip of my sword into the crack in the door, prying it open just enough to where when my shoulder impacted it, the door flew open with a loud _THUD_ and I hobbled in. The front room appeared clear. Carl followed me in, sweeping his line of vision with his pistol, while I kept alert for the slightest sounds of motion. The kitchen wasn't far, and soon, we had both made our way into it; only putting our weapons down once we were sure we had no company.

So, with no immediate threat in sight, we split up to either side of the room, and began pulling canned food out of the cabinets and dumping them into my oversized backpack.

"I can see why you think so highly of her." I finally say, breaking the silence.

Carl stops what he's doing and looks at me inquisitively.

"Michonne." I clarify. "She's pretty cool."

Carl chuckles lightly, "Yeah, she is. Kinda mysterious at times, but she's alright by me."

Carl had once told me about how he had met Michonne, and how, initially, he had given her much the same cold shoulder that he had originally given me. All of that had changed when she had helped him retrieve a photograph of his mother for his baby sister, Judith. In that way, Carl had actually been the one to accept her into the fold; a job that had usually been up to his father. We finished up our scavenging in silence, working diligently to gather everything that we saw could be of value. Upon walking out of the house, I immediately became aware of a shift in the weather. The air had gotten colder since we had entered the house and one look at the sky told me why.

"Looks like a storm is on its way." I said, shielding my eyes with my hand as I observed the growing thunderheads overhead.

"We better hurry then." Carl replied, and I nodded in agreement.

We increased the pace of our walking as we made our way down the sidewalk towards the nearest house. But something must've caught Carl's eye, because he immediately stopped in his tracks and squinted, as if to see something farther away. Curious, I turned to where he was looking and squinted myself.

"Walkers." he said, almost in a groan of annoyance.

He was right. In the distance there was a couple of walkers emerging from the trees. Only, something wasn't right about the picture. Squinting more, I quickly saw why. It wasn't _just a few_ walkers. There was a **_lot_ **of walkers. They were pouring out of the trees now by the dozen. Alarmed, I glanced over at Carl, who was about as wide-eyed as I was. The sudden rumble of thunder jolted us from our gaze, causing us to jump. It didn't take long for the oncoming herd to make it to the edge of the neighborhood and I could now hear their snarls and hissing getting closer. Instinctively, I grabbed Carl's arm and pulled him as quickly as possible, until we were hidden from view behind on the side of one of the nearby houses.

"We can't fight our way through that." I tell him, panic rising in my voice.

I had seen a large mass of walkers before, but only at a distance. I knew there were too many in this group for us to take on with Carl's limited ammo supply and my rudimentary skills.

"We have to warn Michonne!" he exclaims in the softest voice he can muster, given the situation.

I glance around the corner at the advancing herd. I know how he's going to react when I tell him what he already has to know: that it was a suicide dash to get to Michonne before the walkers closed in on us. Closing my eyes and bracing for his temper, I shake my head.

"There's no way, Carl. She's over there." I gestured to a cluster of houses that were now being approached by the oncoming swarm. "We'll be bitten or worse before we even make a dent through that."

As expected, Carl's look is anything but pleased. He looks flustered. Almost angry, in a way. His eyes keep darting from the walkers to the houses that Michonne had gone into. I knew if I didn't do something, he would continue to insist that we assist her, and by that time, we'd be being swarmed by the undead.

"You know she wouldn't want us risking it, Carl." I tell him, trying to sound understanding and soothing. "I understand how you feel, but if you really want to help her then we _both_ need to find a place to get out of this."

I look at him hard, trying to convey my urgency while he mulls over what I've said. Though I can tell he's not sold on it, he relents, nodding and taking off back in the direction we'd came. Rushing back into the house we had just scavenged, I slam the door behind us, and he's already pushing a large hope chest towards the door; something I quickly help him with. We continue to do the same to any other door we find leading to the outside and then I make a second round around the house, shutting every curtain I can find. The thunder from the growing storm outside is coming more frequently now, increasing in intensity as it does. I slump down against the hope chest that is fastened up against the front door. Carl, on the other hand, is pacing the floor furiously. I may not have known Carl long, but I'm well aware of when he's upset.

And now he's fuming.

"I should be out there." he says. "She may not see them coming. We could help her. Find someway out!"

There is both frustration and urgency in his voice and I know nothing I say will calm his nerves, but I try anyways.

"Carl, you yourself told me that of your group, she was the toughest." I say. "And she survived what happened at the prison and found you again. She'll be alright. Once the walkers pass through, we'll go find her."

"That isn't enough!" he snaps. "If something happens to her-"

"Don't you think she feels the same way?" I interject, knowing where he's going with this. "That's why she told us to stay together. If something were to happen to you, she'd never be able to forgive herself. That's why you can help her by staying put and out of danger."

This seems to hit a nerve in him, because he wheels around and unloads:

"How would you know?!" he snarls, his voice cracking as he does. "You've been by yourself this whole time? How could you possibly know what it feels like to think you've lost someone? An entire group? We should be trying to find her! Not sitting here hiding!"

His words sting. And even though I know he was just reacting to the pent up anxiety within him, I narrow my eyes and advert his gaze. I can hear him huff angrily and begin to storm out of the room fuming. But then something surfaces in me and before I know it, I'm speaking without ever having intended to:

"I do know." I say plainly, stopping him in his tracks, just outside the doorway.

And with those three words, the memories come flooding back, along with every nightmare I had ever had since. I can feel the back of my eyes burning, tears beginning to form as I revisit each and every memory. It had been a _very_ long time since I legitimately cried, but Carl's words had opened up a door I thought I had hidden deep inside long ago. Suddenly, my eyes snap back up at him, the first tear falling from my eye to my cheek, slowly winding its way down to the ridge of my mandible. He's looking over his shoulder at me, expression cold, but waiting for me to finish.

"I never told you, did I?" I continue, pain suddenly filling the void in my chest. "I didn't leave Atlanta alone, back when this all started. I left with a group of people. We set up a camp a couple miles south near some old camping grounds. I was already reeling at the thought of my parents and siblings being dead, but it was worse not knowing. They were in Texas, so I couldn't check on them, call them, nothing. I was completely in the dark. Even to this day, I don't know if they made it out or... or if they're one of _them_."

I gesture to the door behind me, where the sounds of the growing herd of walkers passing through the neighborhood can be heard clearly now.

"But I got cozy, thinking that if I stayed with this group, I'd be okay. Everything would go back to normal eventually and I could find out what happened to my family. We all took turns being lookout at night. About a month after all this started, on one of my nights as lookout, I thought I had heard a noise coming from the woods and had gone to investigate. I was caught off guard by a fairly large pack of walkers and I intended to fight them off, as a way of protecting the camp. But..."

My vision began to blur further as I recalled this particular event.

"A scream coming from the direction of camp startled me. I turned to run back, failing to deal with the walkers that I had run into. When I got back, it was too late. There were corpses everywhere and those _things_ were eating the ones who hadn't managed to get away. These were good people that got killed. One of them, Kelly, was a mother with three young children." A sob escaped my lips, chest heaving as it did. "They were the first one's I found. Don't ask me how I made it out. To this day I still consider that feat a miracle. I decided from that day forward, I was better off on my own. I had failed to help the people who had helped me, so I figured I'd only end up doing the same to anyone else I met."

Somewhere during the course of my confession, Carl had turned completely around, the look on his face softening somewhat as he listened. In the background, there was a faint tapping noise on the roof, which quickly turned into a loud roar. It had begun to rain _hard_ outside, with thunder accompanying it even stronger than before. I could hear the walkers hissing outside as the downpour pelted them.

"So I do get what it feels like to lose people important to you. I even know what its like to lose them all at once." I finally say, coming back to his original point. "And, believe it or not, I know how you feel about your friend, because..."

I suddenly pause, realizing what I was about to say. He staring at me intently now, and I know I can't avoid it this time, so I swallow hard and look him straight in his eyes. Those wonderful blue pearls I had come to adore so much recently.

"Because if it were you out there," I continue slowly. "I'd be wanting to bust out of here and find you too."

That genuinely seems to shock him, evidenced by his eyes widening to a degree. Before I know it, my brain is controlling my movements and it seems like I'm outside myself, watching me stand and move closer to him. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, just as hard, if not harder, as it was earlier after our playful race. Funny, something that happened just this morning seemed so distant all of a sudden. Like it had happened forever ago. I came to a stop a mere few inches in front of him, and he was gazing up at me; a partially puzzled look on his face. I didn't expect him to respond at that point, but he does:

"Why would you care if it was me out there?"

At first, I'm almost hurt by the fact that he would actually ask such a thing, especially given the friendship we had begun to develop over the time we had been together. But then I realize... the way he had asked that question was the same way Rick had asked me what I intended to do once he had awakened. Carl already knew the answer to that question, but he was testing me. Seeing if I trusted him enough to tell him what he already knew. A very loud, almost ear-splitting crash of thunder splits the silence, but neither of us react to it, continuing our impromptu staring contest while Carl awaits my answer. I study him hard and really consider my answer, because I know he wants the truth and the truth only. It suddenly dawned on me that this was actually happening. I had a real chance here to tell him exactly how I felt, but, as so often happened, self-doubt was preventing me from just saying it.

How can you just fall in love with someone in so short a time?

I had always been of the opinion that "falling in love" was just a romantic term that was overused by those who were super infatuated with another person. That to develop "love", you had to have a meaningful relationship first, and it would develop from that. But now I was beginning to doubt that. Carl and I had known each other a short time, compared to most other people I had met in my life, and yet, I had been totally stricken by him shortly after meeting him. At first it had been just mere infatuation, but now, I could honestly say it wasn't just that. I enjoyed everything about Carl. His witty sarcasm, his competitiveness, his compassion for people he cared about, and even his raw stubborness, at times. I loved it all.

_You love it all._

I chuckled softly to myself as the thought crosses my mind.

_I must be completely losing my mind._

Carl cocks an eyebrow at me, and my restraints are suddenly broken. The look he's giving me, that insanely innocent, inquisitive look of his shatters every bit of doubt that had been plaguing me. I open my mouth to speak, but, to my surprise, my brain seizes control of my actions once more and I do something entirely unexpected.

I lean in and gently brush my lips against his.

I can see his eyes widen. Almost _hear_ his heart pounding in his chest. His breath become shallow and more rapid. But, to my surprise and relief, he doesn't pull away. And I can see his cheeks darken into a bright red, accenting the freckles splattered across his face. For a brief moment, likely in embarrassment, Carl adverts my gaze, looking off to the side. But I'm not done with him yet. My hand is suddenly raising from its place at my side, finding a resting place on his cheek. There, I can feel the heat. The marvelous _heat_ coming off his body. I can feel his pulse in my finger tips. My hand on his cheek brings his eyes back to mine and I gently push his long hair out of his eyes, wrapping it cautiously around the back of his ears. And even though he's still wearing his sheriff's hat, at least I can see his eyes better. I bring my palm to the back of his head, threading my fingers through the fine, dirt clogged strands of hair there and he's completely transfixed.

A second time I lean in, and this time, go a bit further, pressing my lips to his. At first, there is no response. He simply stands there, as if trying to figure out what to do. I even consider pulling back and withdrawing in defeat, but then he slowly begins to relax, his eyes closing, head tilting, mouth opening just enough to give me entrance. In this moment, I have to be completely honest. I've never kissed a human being in my life: in a romantic fashion, that is. As I've said before, I avoided the entire concept of romance prior to this. But, even so, I had heard things here and there about how it was done. And so, throwing caution to the wind, I dive in. My lips close around his upper lip, leaving my lower lip between his own lips. The kiss is gentle at first, with neither of us really knowing what we're doing. He releases me suddenly, gasping for air, which gives me a chance to get a deep breath of my own. To my surprise, however, its him who makes the next move. He places his hands gently on my hips and leans up to go for another kiss, tangling us in yet another lip lock. This time, I decide to take another chance, and slowly and carefully drag my tongue across his lower lip. I can feel him shiver in my arms as I do, which would've made me grin on any other occasion.

Before I know it, his tongue is there, teasing the tip of mine. I briefly wrap my tongue around his and he responds by coiling his around mine. The feeling that suddenly jolts down my spine is electrifying, and we break apart with that, both of us panting; totally out of breath. To make matters more amusing, he is a deeper shade of red than I've ever seen him, and from the heat I can feel coming off my cheeks, I can tell that I am too. He doesn't say anything, but I wasn't really expecting him to. Its hard to say anything after something like that. His eyes dart back to the floor and I can only smile gently at his shyness. His entire mood has changed, so I'll count that as a victory for me.

"So you see," I finally say, sucking up my fears to finally _verbally_ reply to his question. "The reason I would care if it were you out there, is because..."

I reach out and take his upper arm, using it to pull him close to me. He doesn't tense up or resist, simply letting me do what I wanted. Clearly he knows I'd never harm him.

_Never ever._

Wrapping one arm around his thin frame, I thread the fingers of my remaining hand back through his hair, and pull him into a tight hug, accidentally knocking his hat off of his head in the process; something he doesn't seem all that concerned about. I bury my nose in his hair at the top of his head and whisper very softly to him:

"I love you, Carl."

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

I was in a daze.

_Did he really say that?_

Of course he had. I had always kind of known. The way he acted around me had all the signs present. And I was just so _mean_ to him. I couldn't keep from staring at him after he released me from the hug he had enveloped me in. It was hard to resist the urge to pinch myself _hard_ in order to make sure this was all really happening. We had shared a _kiss_! And then he had said that. So many feelings were rushing through my head, I was beginning to feel lightheaded. He seemed to notice this and placed a hand gently on my shoulder to steady me, and, in someways I think he also did it to comfort me. We walked across the room and slumped over next to the hope chest, still stuck up against the front door. Outside it was really pouring, with no sign of letting up. The noise was so loud it was almost hard to hear the walkers still passing through the neighborhood. I sat as I usually did when there was a lot on my mind; legs drawn up to my chest, my arms folded over the top of my knees. I hadn't even thought of going back to retrieve my hat.

I briefly glance over to him. He's sitting directly next to me, staring at the ceiling. Clearly his thoughts are as jumbled as mine. But eventually, I had to ask him. I had to actually know:

"Did you really mean it?" I blurt out. "What you said?"

Tanner's eyes shut for a moment, but other than that, he makes no other movements. There is another crack of thunder outside and he exhales through his nose, in a sigh before lowering his head and turning to look me straight in the eyes. His eyes are swollen and red along the edges where he had been crying earlier.

_You did that to him, _I remind myself.

Of course, I hadn't intended to be mean or to snap at him. The thought that I might lose Michonne after just having reunited with her had gotten the best of me and I had just... just snapped.

"More than I've ever meant anything in my entire life, Carl." is his reply. "I don't just say things like that based off of spontaneous feelings."

Its true. In the short time I've known Tanner, I've learned that he is rather blunt. He'll either tell you what he thinks, or say nothing at all. So I suppose that when he said it, I should've just accepted it. But those words...

"_I love you, Carl._"

I hadn't heard them in so long. Not since I had been hovering over Mom in her final dying moments. The last time Dad had said it to me was back at the farm, while we were diverting a large horde of walkers away from us. And that seemed like an eternity ago. I just wasn't used to them. Part of me wanted to say it back to him. _I love you too_. But, as rare as it was for me to hear those words, it was even rarer for me to reply with that. So, I did the next best thing that I could. I tilted my body to the side, allowing my head to rest on his shoulder, his side supporting my body weight, hoping that the simple gesture would say what I, with words, could not. He must've gotten what I was trying to do, because he returned the gesture, resting his head on top of mine. The simple affection he was showing me caused my nerves to become less frayed. In the short time I'd known him, Tanner had been there for me every chance he got. Though it was unintentional at the time, when he saved me from the walkers, it had grown into genuine care. The night he'd comforted me when I had thought Dad had turned and I had finally broken down after days of feeling nothing but rage and pain.

And what's more, around him I could be my age again.

Growing up in the group, just trying to survive the horrors of this world, I was surrounded by adults. At time, the pressure to grow up quicker than I would've had to before was unreal. I had responded as best I knew how. After all, I wanted to be as tough as Daryl, as wise as Hershel, resourceful as Shane, and as decisive as Dad. But no matter what, I never seemed to match up to them. But when I was around Tanner, all that pressure was gone. Melted away, either by his wise-beyond-his-years words, his lazy sense of humor, or his sheer determination to just survive in this world with as much of his humanity intact as he could. At times I wondered why he seemed so understanding of me, when everyone else around me treated me like some little kid. But today I'd learned. Its because he knew what I felt too, and, though he had never said it, the way he would look at me suggested that he hated that someone else was going through what he did.

I smiled softly to myself, snuggling up closer to him.

I then, finally, allowed me thoughts to drift back to Michonne. Even though I knew Tanner was right, Michonne could handle herself - if anyone could, she could - I was still concerned. Still anxious. Perhaps it was just my natural hard-headedness, but I didn't want to give up. I wanted to go out there and find her. But I was torn between staying out of danger, and waiting for things to abate, and charging out into the rain to search for her. Tanner must've sensed my restlessness, as he was so good at doing these days, and so he finally spoke:

"I've been thinking." he said slowly. "I _did_ say that if it was you, I'd probably be going out there and bashing in every door until I found you. Walkers or no walkers. And I meant it."

He paused, and I simply waited, knowing he had more to say.

"So, if you still feel that strongly about it, it'd be wrong of me to stop you from going. She is your friend after all."

"Yeah?" I ask, still conflicted over the whole matter.

"Yes. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"We go together." he declares. "And we stay together, no matter what."

I chuckle this time, wrapping my arms around the arm I'm leaning against and giving him a light squeeze.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

**A/N:** **I hope that wasn't _too_ mushy hahaha I'll try to counterbalance it with some good, raw, action in the next one. There's nothing a romance story needs more than a little zombie killing xD Anyways, review, comment! I'll probably reply to some more reviews during the next chapter. Hope this one was enjoyable!**

**Until the next one, folks!**


	6. To Earn One's Place

We emerged from the house from the back door, figuring that if there were any walkers out back, it would be far less than there were out front. Unfortunately, it was still raining intensely, and there was no sign of it letting up anytime soon. I peeked around the corner of the home, granting me a picture of what the front yard looked like. There were a few straggling walkers, but the majority of the herd seemed to have moved further ahead. I gestured for Carl to come closer so that he could hear me over the rain.

"You have limited ammo so we'll go with the plan Michonne laid out earlier." I said. "I'll walk in front and take care of any walkers in our path. Only shoot the ones in my blindspot and _only_ if you have to. The herd is still close, so any noise will probably bring them back."

Carl simply nodded in agreement.

With that, we took off again. Once in the front lawn, I surveyed the street. I could see the tail end of the herd in the distance. Still too close for comfort, but far enough for us to get across the street without attracting their attention. One of the stragglers noticed me and began to limp across the soaked concrete towards me. I drew my wakizashi, charged forward, and planted the blade directly in its skull, causing it to drop with a _SPLOOSH_ in a forming puddle. Another was behind it, and I was quick to dispatch it in a similar fashion. Only once I was sure the path to the other side was clear did I motion for Carl to close the distance between us. By this point, we were soaked completely, all the way through. I noticed Carl was shivering, and I couldn't blame him. The rain was especially cold. Enough so that it literally felt as though ice was being placed directly onto my bones.

Even still, we pressed ahead, pushing open the door to the first home.

"I'll go upstairs and check." he proposed.

I flashed him a concerned expression, but he was quick to reassure me.

"I'll be careful. I promise." he says.

I relent with a nod, but, on a spontaneous thought, hand him my short sword. He responds by glancing up at me, one eyebrow raised.

"Just in case there are any up there." I explain. "It'll save you ammo. Just think of it as a really big knife and you'll be fine."

Reluctantly, and with great care, Carl takes the sword from me and proceeds up the steps. I unsheathe my second sword and begin to comb through the lower rooms one by one. There is definitely evidence that someone had been in the house. Some of the drawers on nearby desks had been pulled out, their contents spilled on the floor. Cabinet doors still open. Despite this, there was nothing that would indicate it was actually Michonne who had gone through all of this stuff. The kitchen was in a similar condition of disarray, but yet, there seemed to be no sign of who actually caused the mess. But that doesn't matter, because a large _THUD_ from upstairs jolts me from my thoughts, and, heart racing, I bolt out of the kitchen and towards the stairwell.

"Carl!" I shout, forgetting that my loud shriek could draw any walkers that heard. "Carl!"

There is no response. Or rather, if there was, I couldn't hear it, because I was too busy charging up the stairwell. I wheeled around the corner like a pro-athlete, and suddenly there is a shout:

"Watch out!"

But its too late. Suddenly, the world seems to be spinning, as my legs come completely out from under me; having collided with a metal-like object. My sword flies out of my hand, skidding across the room and under a bed, but I land face first, right onto Carl. The sudden impact causes me to see stars, but I quickly recover and glance back at what caused me to fall. A lamp had been knocked over and, in my hurry, I must not have noticed it. Though how Carl had tripped over it was beyond my comprehension. Either way, I found myself flat on top of him, and I only now realized that.

"I told you to watch out." he jokes with me, sitting up supported by his elbows. He gives me one of his signature coy grins.

"Me watch out? How the _hell_ did you trip over it?" I shoot back, trying my best to sound offended, even when I was only returning his jest.

He smirked at me in return, which garnered a chuckle from me. Lifting myself off of him, I then reached down to help him up before searching the room for my missing swords. I suddenly realized how lucky we both were that neither of us fell on _them _in the process. We return downstairs and are soon out the front door once more. One house down, I suppose. We were on our way to the next one, when, for some reason, despite the rather dismal condition of the weather, Carl decided to ask me something.

"So, what exactly does this make us?" he asks, not particularly looking at me as he does.

I cock an eyebrow at him, as he so often does to me: "What does _what _make us?"

"You know..." he trails off. "Are we friends, or..."

Oh!

Oh.

_Oh._

That.

I must be incredibly dense not to have understood what he was implying. I pondered his question for a few moments before deciding to throw the ball back into his court.

"We're definitely friends, Carl." I say. "Nothing will change that. But would I be right in assuming you mean about what happened earlier?"

That was the thing about guys. Especially guys like me, who had a problem talking about anything having to deal with relationships. We have trouble talking about mushy shit. Anyone else would've said, _You mean about the fact that I kissed you like there was no tomorrow? Or the fact that I said 'I love you'?_ But my pride simply wouldn't allow me to say it, and it seemed that it was the same way with him. I know, it sounds completely illogical, but I suppose that's the way things are sometimes. Either way, Carl simply nods, obviously wanting to say as little as humanly possible.

"Well, Carl, that really is up to you." I respond. "How do you feel about it?"

Carl goes quiet for a moment, leaving me to just the sound of the rain pouring down on us. The next house is within clear sight by this point.

"I know we're friends." Carl finally says, though he's stuttering so I can tell he's still trying to find the right words. "But, I don't think 'friends' is the right word. You're like a brother to me, only..."

He pauses for a second before shaking his head, sending water droplets everywhere with each swish of his soaked hair.

"...Oh, I don't know!" he finally shouts in confusion. "This is all so confusing to me."

I laugh a little harder than I should've, causing him to shoot me a look.

"Well, if it helps, I know what you feel like. I'm still trying to figure things out myself." I admit. "Why don't we think about it while we look for Michonne? We can talk about it a little later."

"Yeah, I guess that's a good idea." he replies.

Almost as if on cue, we reach the second house and are quick to barricade ourselves on the inside, glad to finally be out of the onslaught of rain. There doesn't seem to be an upstairs in this house, meaning Carl and I wouldn't have to split up, so we immediately begin our search of the surrounding rooms. As we pass through the hallway presumably leading to the bedroom, some movement behind us catches my eye, and I spin around to see who, or what, could've caused it. To my great relief, a very familiar face walks out of one of the adjacent rooms.

"So you boys finally found me, huh?" Michonne's voice comes clearly.

Carl whirls around upon hearing it and launches himself at her. She recoils, half in surprise, half due to the fact that he, like me, is soaking wet. Even so, she seems genuinely pleased to see us.

"What are you two doing out with that herd around?" Michonne finally questions.

"Carl insisted we come and find you." I explain. "I suggested we stay put, but he can be... _convincing_... sometimes."

"I figured you both would be alright." she replies. "Did you manage to find anything useful?"

I toss my backpack off of my shoulder and open up the main compartment. It was only about half full of canned foods and bottled water. In the other pockets there were flashlights, fresh batteries, and a set of walkie-talkies Carl had found.

"How about you?" I asked.

Her bag was considerably smaller than mine, but she had managed to find a few bottled waters, and lots of canned foods. In our current predicament, that was probably as best as it was going to get.

"We'll leave once this storm clears up." she says once we're done surveying the other's supplies. "I imagine your dad is pretty worried."

Carl's face goes pale all of a sudden.

"Oh yeah... I'd completely forgotten. He's going to be pissed." Carl moans.

"He'll get over it. You're safe, we got supplies, and shit happens." I soothe him. "He'll understand."

We begin to start packing up the supplies again, preparing for our walk back to our "home" the moment the storm let up. Suddenly, Carl begins looking frantically around him, patting his head and then darting to rooms we'd been in, clearly looking for something.

"What is it?" Michonne asks, suddenly concerned.

"My hat!" Carl exclaims from another room. "I lost my hat!"

My mind suddenly flashes back to earlier, in the house we were holed up in. His hat had fallen off his head when I...

_Son of a bitch._ I think, chuckling to myself. "I think I know where its at."

####

Night fell a lot quicker than I had anticipated and the storm was nowhere near close to letting up. Carl, Michonne, and I had ventured across the street to the house Carl and I had hidden in earlier to retrieve his missing hat and then decided to remain there for the duration of the storm. All the exertion from the day had drained all of Carl's energy, so he was the first to pass out for the night, leaving Michonne and I alone to our thoughts, illuminated only by a small gas lamp Michonne had brought with her. For the longest while, we were just silent, myself thinking about my earlier moment with Carl, and Michonne thinking about... whatever it is that goes on in that head of hers. But she doesn't stay silent, and soon, she is talking to me, though her gaze is on the ceiling.

"So, when you said that Carl could be convincing earlier," she starts, her voice even and in its usual serious tone. "What did you mean by that?"

I shook myself from my daze and gave her my attention, "He was pretty angry when I suggested we stay put and let the walkers pass. He seemed pretty desperate to find you. And... in the end, I couldn't argue with him because..."

"Because you'd feel the same way." she finishes for me.

I raise an eyebrow at her. She chuckles, finally looking at me directly.

"It doesn't take me long to figure someone out, kid. You two seem close."

"Yeah..." I trail off, my thoughts going back to the kiss I gave Carl earlier in the day. Rather, the kiss we ended up both taking part in. But Michonne is persistent for some reason.

"Did something happen?"

"I guess you could call it that." I reply after choosing my words _very_ carefully.

"You wanna tell me what that was?"

The way she said that made me think she already knew I was going to tell her, or that she wasn't going to relent until I did. But I'm not sold on the idea. For one, Carl and I are still kind of confused on what exactly happened back there. Secondly, I didn't know if Carl wanted anyone to know. I gazed on his sleeping form, watching him sleep so peacefully for a few moments. Without realizing it, my lips had slipped unconsciously into a soft smile. Seeing him snoozing so peacefully was truly a sight to behold. The sight made it hard to accept that Carl was so much more mature than he looked. In the same number of ways he was a growing teenage boy, he was also a man trapped in a boy's body. I admired that about him.

"Ah, so that's it."

Michonne's voice distracts me, and I'm brought back to reality. My gaze snaps to her's, and she's smiling, almost in a joking manner.

"What?" I try to sound as casual as possible, but I must've failed, because her look doesn't change.

"You have a thing for him, don't you?"

My face suddenly was on fire. I don't think I've ever been that embarrassed in my entire life. In fact, if I could, I would've crawled under the nearest boulder right then and there, and never came out. But that wasn't an option and Michonne wasn't letting the topic drop at all. So, I huffed; so loud it was a miracle it didn't wake Carl; and replied.

"And if I do?"

"Chill out," she says, suddenly sounding soothing. "I'm not condemning it."

Regardless, the damage is done. I avert her gaze to the best of my ability, trying to keep my focus on the carpet.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

_Damn she's persistent tonight._

"Let's just say... he knows." I completely skip over the part where we kissed. Its embarrassing enough that she knows I like Carl to begin with. There is no way in hell I'm telling her I kissed him. Much less that he kissed back.

She nods, "Well that's a good thing."

There is a long, awkward pause. In the silence, I fidget with the still moist seams of my shirt. There is a question on my mind, but I can't bring myself to ask it, so I ask her something else.

"Why are you so interested?"

Her gaze hardens for a second. Its almost as if she's studying me. Her gaze is piercing, almost all-knowing. At times she is even harder to read than Rick or Carl. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm the only one in this little group that is actually _easy_ to read.

"Because I think its good for him." she finally replies, pauses, and then: "And for you, too."

"But Rick-"

"Rick doesn't have to know yet." Michonne cut me off. "You're thinking way too far ahead of yourself, kid. Focus on working things out between you and _him_ first." She gestures to the still-sleeping Carl. "Then you can worry about what Rick thinks."

"Its still a factor." I argue. "And besides, what kind of life is that for Carl?"

I suddenly realize I had blurted out the original question I had tried to bury earlier. Now its her turn to look confused, and she watches me intently, waiting for me to elaborate. Its almost a complete reversal of roles. My gaze hardens as her's becomes inquisitive. But now that I've said it, I need to get what's on my chest off of it.

"Say something did come of all of this." I continue, almost ranting now. "I'm a nobody. I can't provide for him. The risk of losing him or him losing me is huge, so long as those... _things_ are still roaming around out there. I don't want to put Carl through that. Through any of it. He's been through enough."

I sigh as I finish my explanation. Michonne purses her lips, but doesn't say anything at first. Then she shakes her head, her dreadlocks swaying side-to-side. She glances at the ceiling again, her eyes becoming distant, as though she is trying to recall something absolutely vital, but she soon returns her stare to me.

"Its hard to remember that you and Carl are just kids sometimes." is her answer. "Older kids, yes, but still kids. In this world you are much more grown up than you would've been before this all happened, but you still have the same dilemmas you would've had as teenagers."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"How do you feel about Carl?"

"What are you talking about? I love him."

And I've said it again. Only this time, to a witness. And just like that, her wicked grin is back, and my cheeks are quickly approaching the temperature of the sun. I hadn't meant to say that, but as the saying goes, everything comes out eventually. No amount of hiding it can prevent that. Michonne is quick with her response, leading me to believe that she had been trying to get this out of me from the beginning.

"Then stop worrying about all the other stuff." she says. "In this world, you _need _love and companionship. Sometimes its the only thing that keeps you going from day to day. You're the first real friend Carl has had, that is his age, not to mention his gender. Back at the prison, everyone was worried that he was slowly slipping away. Becoming cold. Without feeling. But since he's met you, he's brightened up. Still has a ways to go, but its definitely an improvement. If you really do love him, then things will work out."

I'm silent. To be honest, I'm out of responses. I know she's right.

"Talk to him." she repeats. "He'll listen to you."

Our conversation ends with that, and she quickly kills the lamp, casting the entire house in darkness. Outside, the silence is drowned out by the rainfall. A flash of lightning briefly illuminates the room, particularly Carl's sleeping face. For a moment, I remember the Atlanta camp. How comfortable I had gotten there and how badly it had ended. Another flash illuminates Carl's sleeping form and I slowly crawl towards him. Never before had I been so torn in my entire life. One side of me telling me to stay away, that it would only lead to more pain, while the other tells me to get as close as I can. The sudden heaviness of my eyes brings to light my fatigue. I pretty much collapse next to Carl, grabbing a nearby cushion to use as a pillow. In the quiet, in between raindrops, I can hear his breathing - steady and soft. I sigh to myself:

_What have you gotten yourself into, Tanner?_

Its a valid question, but one that is quickly silenced as I move my arm and carefully wrap it around Carl's chest, gently pulling him towards me. In a way, its similar to the way I held him that night that seemed so long ago. The second night I had known him, when he had cried into my shoulder after Rick had scared him into thinking he had turned into a walker. Only this time there are no tears. I can now feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes. I realize that I don't know how he'll react to this when he wakes up in the morning, assuming he wakes up first, but, I suddenly don't care. I just want him to know I'm there, in someway. And so my eyes shut, breathing slows, and I fall asleep with Carl in my arms.

And for the first time, that night, I have no nightmares.

####

For the record, I was the one who woke first.

Michonne was responsible for it, however, having shaken me from my peaceful slumber. I opened only one eye at first, the flood of sunlight through one of the nearby windows being too unbearable for both eyes. My first sight was Michonne grinning madly at me. I began to ask what she found so amusing, but a sudden breath in the crook of my neck answered the question for me. Glancing somewhat to the side, I see the source of Michonne's amusement. Somewhere during the night, Carl had rolled over, meaning he was now curled up right against me. To make matters worse, my arm was still lazily draped over him.

"Come on." Michonne whispers. "The storm ended during the night. We need to pack up before Rick comes looking for us."

I nod in reply and carefully pry Carl off of me. He grunts and quickly turns over to the other side, which makes me chuckle a little, before I return to the task at hand. Michonne and I work in silence, packing our bags with the supplies we'd gathered the previous day, as well as anything else we found lying around the house that may be useful. Sometime as we were doing so, Carl woke up, as I found him sitting up, still in somewhat of a sleepy daze, as I was returning to the living room for a flashlight I wanted to pack in my bag. He looked completely hilarious sitting there, his hair frizzed from the constant movement in his sleep, staring groggily into space. I accidentally let a laugh escape my lips, causing him to shift his gaze towards me.

"Sleep well?" I ask him, chuckling once more.

"Somewhat." he replies, totally obvious that at somepoint during the night, he had made me into some sort of human pillow. His voice is still coarse from having just awakened.

"Well, get up." Michonne says, having heard us talking, and walked in behind Carl. "We need to get a move on."

It doesn't take Carl long to get his own things together, and before I know it, we're all three back outside. The air is usually cold on this particular morning, but I shrugged it off as being an after effect of the rain. The grass and concrete were still soaked, and there were several standing puddles dotting the terrain, but not a single walker in sight. Michonne takes off towards the SUV parked in the driveway of the farthest house. I had completely forgotten that she had wanted to take it the day before, but I was glad that she had remembered. To our relief, the door was unlocked, but we were immediately presented with another problem:

"How are we going to drive this thing?" I ask.

"Hey, I'm not completely helpless." Michonne jests, bending down and opening up the electrical board under the steering wheel.

As we wait, I notice Carl looking rather inquisitively over Michonne's shoulder; clearly intrigued by whatever it was she was doing to the car. I suspected she was hotwiring it, as that seemed the sensible thing to do, but Carl was completely transfixed.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" he queried.

"Daryl taught me a thing or two." she replies.

As if on cue, the engine roars to life, and Michonne hops into the driver's seat. Carl and I load up the bags in the trunk and then crawl into the back seats, slamming the trunk behind us. I must admit, it was weird being in a car after a year and a half of only looting them. The nostalgia was all coming back to me at once. If just being in the car wasn't a treat enough, we soon discovered the air conditioning worked. Carl seemed to enjoy this much more than I did, but it was nice to have cool air blowing on us for once.

"I wonder what Dad will say when we get back." Carl says as we pull out of the driveway and begin our treck down the road.

"Just leave the talking to me." Michonne says, and even though I think she was being completely serious, both Carl and I break out into laughter.

The drive is infinitely quicker and more convenient than walking. While walking between the two neighborhoods had taken us a good hour or two, driving cut that time down to a couple minutes. Rick must've heard our engine, because he's already outside as we pull up to the house. His look is anything but calm. I can see the worry creased on his face. It didn't look like he had gotten any sleep either.

"Where have you been?!" he barked as we exited the car. "You were only supposed to be gone for a few hours!"

"We got sidetracked." Michonne replied, seeming to ignore Rick's furious tone, instead turning her attention to pulling the bags from the trunk of the car, which Carl and I promptly began to help with. "Huge pack of walkers moved through and the storm only made it worse."

"We're fine, Dad." Carl reassures his father, as he comes around the side of the van. "Nothing bad happened."

I can tell Rick is debating on whether to be angry or relieved, but its soon clear that relief wins out, as he lets out a sigh and nods.

"Thank you." Rick says, aiming it at Michonne.

"Don't thank me." she says, catching us all by surprise. "Thank Tanner. We got separated when the walkers moved through. He's the one who took care of your boy."

Rick's look is absolutely priceless. Incredulous even. He blinks twice and looks between Michonne and myself, and then back again. Carl takes the moment to assert his pride:

"Not that I need to be taken care of." He tries to sound angry, but I know him well enough to know by now when he's joking.

"Oh, put a sock in it, drama queen." I retort, snickering so that he'd know I was joking. He was much more oblivious than me when it came to those things.

He simply stuck his tongue out at me in response, and then continued to carry the bags inside the house. Rick is silent for a few moments, but stops me as I am about to follow Michonne indoors.

"I believe I owe you a thank you." he says. I'll never get tired of that thick Southern accent of his. In a way, I'm envious that mine isn't that thick.

"Nah," I reply, trying to wave him off. "Carl and I make a good team. We'd have been fine either way."

For the first time since I met the man, Rick smiles and chuckles, "Even so, you saved his life while I was out, and because of you he can really be a kid again. I was beginning to worry that his childhood would slip away without him being able to do fun, kid stuff. You've changed that. I'm grateful."

Rick's words really mean something to me. He had pretty much treated me as a burden the entire time he'd known me, so to know that he acknowledged my friendship with his son was a particularly heartwarming feeling. I smile at him as a form of response and then continue carrying the supplies we'd gotten into the house. Rick seemed to be feeling much better than when we had left and even assisted us in putting up the supplies. We stopped briefly to eat some cereal Carl and I had left over from our initial meeting, in what seemed like an eternity ago, already. Shortly after cleaning up, however, Rick had an announcement for us all.

"I don't think we should stay here." he declared, glancing around at all three of us. "The houses here have already been looted, and you all ran into a herd, which means this area will be a red zone before long."

Michonne nodded her agreement. I agreed but didn't say anything. I figured I'd just let Rick and Michonne figure things out. As long as I was with Carl, they could've taken me to Antarctica for all I cared, and I'd have been on board. Carl didn't protest either, which I took as a good sign. Though, I didn't know why I thought he would protest to begin with. I suppose I was a little too used to his argumentative side.

"Is everyone in agreement?" he asked, surveying our expressions once again.

This time we all nodded and so he nodded in turn.

"Then we leave in two days. That'll give Michonne and I time to plan on where we're going to head and pack everything."

####

"So, where do you think we'll be heading?" I ask Carl.

We're both outside, having left Rick and Michonne to plan for our upcoming voyage. I had climbed a small tree, sitting in one of the lower, sturdier branches. And Carl, wanting to show that he could do the same thing, had followed me up. With our vantage point, we had a view of most of the neighborhood. The breeze was nice and I leaned back against the trunk, allowing my feet to hang freely over the side of the branch.

"Before we walked out I think I heard Dad talking about heading back to Hershel's farm. Its not far from here." he replied. "But I think that'd only be for supplies. I imagine there's not much left of the place now."

I nod.

There's silence between us for a little bit. For the most part, we were both just enjoying the nice weather and the silence for a change. Suddenly, I remember my conversation with Michonne the previous night, and realize that if I'm going to talk to Carl in private, now may be the best time and the only real chance I get. My heart beat begins to pick up as I even think about the subject matter, but I know I have to do it, so I swallow hard and speak up:

"Hey, Carl." I say softly. "About the other day..."

He cranes his head with interest. In fact, it seems he's almost been _waiting_ for me to bring this up.

"What about it?" he says, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I'm sorry if I forced that on you. I just kinda did the first thing that came to my mind..."

He laughs softly and looks at me from under his lashes. He's really a quite handsome young man, as I'm reminded for what must be the billionth time: "Don't be sorry. I kissed back, remember?"

I can feel my cheeks heating up again.

"Yeah... I..."

"Is there something bothering you, Tanner?" he interjects, a look of concern spreading across his cute face.

"Well, its about what you said... afterwards. Remember, you asked what that made us?"

"Mhm."

I'm amazed at how completely cool he's being about this. I genuinely feel like I'm about to shit myself just bringing it up, and he doesn't seem in the least bit bothered by it. I silently wish I had his courage sometimes. It truly was admirable.

"Well, I've been thinkin'." I scratch the side of my nose nervously. "Would you... be my boyfriend?"

Carl's reaction is initially surprise, his eyes widening as proof of this. But his expression quickly softens. He doesn't smile this time, nor laugh. But his look is completely understanding. I think for once he knows that I don't want to joke around about this. That I'm asking him this seriously, and putting my heart at great personal risk by doing so.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Carl's answer has the same effect on me as mine had on him. I had expected him to kindly reject me, or ask me more questions, but, as you learn the more you're around Carl, the kid goes straight to the point. Rarely is there any beating around the bush when it comes to him.

I nod at him, giving him an uncertain expression, "I want it a lot. More than I've wanted anything."

Carl smiles softly and scoots closer to me, careful balance himself on the tree branch as he does, until he's literally leaning against me. His face is so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin, and its causing my hair to stand on their ends, and electrical sensation running down my spine. He seems to notice this, because his grin gets wider. That's when I notice that I'm no longer staring into those gorgeous aqua eyes I'm so used to seeing, but instead, into a black hole. His pupils are blown completely. And, somewhere in the back of my head, I begin to think that I'm pretty sure mine are too.

To my surprise, he initiates the kiss, sliding his arm around my waist and leaning in, his lips gently brushing against mine, before opening up and running his tongue along the bottom of my upper lip. My heartbeat instantly speeds up to wrap speeds, but I tilt my head for him and open my mouth just enough to grant him entrance. And he takes the invitation without hesitation, latching his lips onto mine and flicking his tongue into my warm, moist mouth. His tongue finds mine and both muscles dance around each other as I gently place my free hand on the back of his head, lacing my fingers through his thick hair. That thick, wonderful hair of his. He's more prepared this time, breathing through his nose so that we don't have to break our kiss so quickly this time around. I follow his lead, doing the same. His tongue pulls back and I take the chance to pull his lower lip into my mouth, lightly dragging it between my teeth, being careful not to bite down hard enough to hurt him. I gently suck on his lower lip for a moment before releasing him, in what must've been the loudest, wettest _smacking_ sound I've ever heard in my young life.

This time, when we pull away, the entire vibe is different. Both of us are grinning like fools, and, as if to solidify the sentiment, he rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, allowing us to enjoy the moment in silence for a few moments.

"I'll take that as a yes." I finally say, causing him to chuckle lightly.

"Yeah," he replies with a smirk. "That was a yes."

Suddenly, the anxiety that previously surrounded my feelings concerning Carl were vanquished and I quite literally breathe a sigh of relief.

_I suppose I owe Michonne a thank you._ I think to myself as I begin to doze off.

* * *

**A/N: There we are. Chapter six. Hope it was enjoyable! Now, as promised, I'll reply to some reviews:**

**Stuwee: Glad you're still enjoying it! Its still in the beginning portions of the story I plan to tell, so stick around. There is plenty more coming. :D**

**Youngblooded: Yeah, I found myself writing, deleting, and re-writing that scene. I must say, I'm pleased with the end result. As to Rick/Michonne, I think the undertones are there. I myself don't have an opinion on their relationship, beyond the fact that I think Michonne views Rick and Carl as family, and I think Rick reciprocates that. Whether or not I act on the undertones, though, I haven't yet decided. Thank you for continuing to review often. It is nice to hear what you think and have to say about the chapters. I hope you continue to enjoy :)**

**Rubyeyed10: Thanks for your review! I really appreciate that you enjoy it as an OC story that stands apart from the other OC stories, as that was one of my main goals when writing this. It really gives me the determination and support I need to keep on pressing on with the story! I hope you continue to follow along and enjoy it to the end!**

**####**

**Thank you guys all for taking the time to comment. Even the simplest things are nice to hear and I do enjoy hearing from you all. That being said, I should probably note that I'm surprised at the time I've been having to keep turning out chapters. To let you know how I do this process, I usually have an outline already done, and that's what allows me to fill in the details and turn the chapter out, but I may not be able to do it so quickly all the time. From the moment I finish one chapter, I've already started on the other, so just know, if there ever comes a time where I haven't updated in a couple of days, that I'm working on it. Depending on what I have going on in real life, I can usually pump out a bunch of chapters within a couple of days of each other, but if things get busy, I might have to go back to my original plan of one or two chapters a week.**

**We'll see, and I'll keep you all updated, but right now I have had plenty of time to work on the story, so the chapters should keep coming relatively soon after one another.**

**Again, thank you all for reading! See you with the next chapter! :)**


	7. On the Move

**A/N:** **So I've been reading ahead in the comics a bit, just because I thought it'd be great to incorporate scenes from both series, even though this story is based primarily on the TV series. Two things came out of this: One, I found some great material for expanding the plot of this story, which is always good stuff. Secondly, I learned that if they actually air some of the stuff in the comics that are coming up in the show, then shit is about to hit the fan. xD Seriously. Especially in Carl's life. **

**But enough of my dabbles into other research. The point of all that is, you have a lot to look forward to, both in the TV show and here in this story! ^.^ On with the chapter! Complete with a much needed change of scenery.**

* * *

Two days came and went.

As Rick had planned, we were able to pack up and leave the neighborhood. It hadn't taken us long to load the van Michonne, Carl, and I had brought back from our run a few days back and with that we were on the road. Carl had been right when he said that we'd be heading for Hershel's farm. Rick had mentioned that Hershel had moved a large number of supply crates into his cellar just prior to their group being forced off the property by a massive herd of walkers. He and Carl both agreed that, unless the farm had been looted since, which was still a very real possibility, the supplies should still be there. Despite this game plan, Rick hadn't said where we were going after, but neither I nor Carl pressed him about it. We were both pretty wrapped up in our own situation.

Two days its been.

Two days since Carl had agreed to be my boyfriend. That was a funny word, "boyfriend". I still tripped up whenever I tried to say it, which Carl find much more amusing than he should've. Both of us agreed that Rick might not be as supportive to our decision and so we agreed, for the time being, to keep it between ourselves. I had still yet to tell him that Michonne was keen to what was going on, but she was a good sport, and didn't let on that she knew, around either Rick nor Carl. Either way, I was pleased and happier than I had been since the initial outbreak. Carl and I were riding in the back seat of the van, Michonne was driving, and Rick was sitting quietly in the passenger seat. The ride was unusually quiet. Both Rick and Carl seemed to have something on their mind, but neither would speak on exactly what it was. I was used to Michonne's silence on most things by now, so her silence didn't bother me as much as the other two's. I let it go, though, figuring that if it was something important, Carl would eventually fill me in one way or another.

The drive to the farm lasted a little over an hour and by the time we had finally pulled up to the gates, I had been in and out of a light sleep. Carl shook me awake when we finally came to a halt. Climbing out of the vehicle, I got my first look at the property I'd heard so much about:

In the distance was a magnificent old farm house, surrounded by torn down fences, and a windmill who's blades had long stopped rotating. Over to the left of the house, and a bit further in the distance, I could see the burnt out shell of what was once a very large barn. Carl had mentioned in bits and pieces what had happened here, so I was aware of the barn fire. Next to the barn was the abandoned husk of an old motor-home. If I remember correctly, from Carl's stories, it once belonged to Dale. Rick and Michonne broke my concentration, however, as they approached from behind me, Carl trailing shortly behind them.

"We'll split up into two teams." he announced, surveying the horizon himself. "Michonne and I will search the house for Hershel's supplies. Carl, you and Tanner go see if you can find the weapons Dale kept in the RV. There has to be a few left."

Carl and I nodded and wasted no time bounding off in the direction of the barn.

We slowed down after traveling that way for a short distance, and once we were out of earshot from Rick and Michonne, Carl started talking again. He pointed towards a large expanse of grass out beyond some of the fences towards the treeline:

"That's where I shot Shane." he declared, a solemn tone to his voice. Clearly having to shoot one of his father figures still haunted the young Grimes.

I glanced over to the hilltop. Clearly there was something else Carl wanted to say, but whatever it was, he was holding it back. Whether for my sake or for his, I couldn't be sure, so I decided to take the initiative and find out:

"Would you like to go pay your respects?" I ask him, trying to keep my tone low and soothing.

He glanced up at me and thought for a second, then nodded.

So that's what we did, taking off in the direction of the field. In the distance, I could see Rick and Michonne nearing the house. They weren't paying attention to us, so I figured we'd be able to visit the site of Shane's death without anyone disturbing us. Hershel's property was much more immense than I originally gave it credit. It took us a good five minutes to cross the large, overgrown front lawn, to the spot on the hill Carl had originally indicated. Of course, I don't think either of us actually expected for there to be anything left of Shane for Carl to see. It had been nearly a year since they had been at the farm and what decay hadn't taken, the walkers had finished off. Even so, Carl seemed to remember the exact spot it had happened at and crouched down when he reached it.

"We never even got a chance to bury him." Carl suddenly said, his voice still low and solemn. "The herd moved in right after it happened."

I didn't have a response, so I simply listened. I've learned that sometimes, merely being there to listen, rather than offer your own insight, is often the best form of comfort. Carl knew I was there if he needed me, and that was all that really mattered at this point.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

Seeing the place where I shot Shane after he had reanimated was bringing back every nightmare I'd had since that night.

There was no evidence of his death. No remnants of his body, no blood stains in the grass, not even the tattered remains of his clothing. But I knew. I knew this is where he had fallen when I'd shot him. My first real kill. I had thought going back to the farm would bring back good memories. Memories of when Dale and Andrea had been alive. Shane and Mom. Back when we still had hope Sophia was alive and just waiting to be found. I was so sure I was going to find her and bring her back safely and now...

My eyes open and drift over to the burnt out barn. That's where we found her. She'd been right under our noses the entire time. My mind flashed further back as my gaze drifted over the mount of rocks underneath one of the tree's close to the barn. Where both Sophia and Dale were buried. Even though Shane had tried to reassure me that it wasn't my fault, I still blamed myself for Dale's demise. If I hadn't been stupid in taunting that walker, he might've lived. Might have still been here. If he had survived the prison that is..

The weight of all the deaths that had happened here, all the sorrow that pulsated from this place was almost too much to bare. I blinked back tears, trying to remain strong. I hated crying in front of anyone, but especially Tanner. I wanted him to see me as tough and strong, not weak and whiny. But I should've known better, because in an instant he was there. His hand reached out and clasped a hold of mine, entwining our fingers in a tight lock. He didn't say anything, but the gesture was enough of a response. One I greatly appreciated.

"Come on," I said finally, wiping the remnant tears from my eyes with my free arm. "We need to get to the RV."

He nods, standing to his feet along with me. We walk the entire way to the barn like that; hand-in-hand. I had a pretty clear view of the house, so I knew neither Dad nor Michonne could see us. I was happy that we didn't have to worry about secrecy for the time being. Only two days in and it was already tedious to hide the way I really felt. But I knew it was necessary for the time being.

As we reach the barn, Tanner releases my hand, and unsheathes his sword. He must've seen something I hadn't, and sure enough, a single burnt walker comes lumbering out from the wreckage. It's body was so mangled and burned that I wondered how it could've possibly managed to survive all these months since the fire, but then again, walkers were incredibly resilient. Tanner made quick work of it, however, slicing its head completely in two, seemingly without exerting himself too much.

"What kind of weapons are we looking for?" he asks as he hoists himself up into the RV, me following closely behind him.

"Some pistols. Maybe a rifle." I reply. "Dale kept most of the group's weapons stashed in here. Not everyone had theirs when the farm was attacked. I guess Dad thinks there still might be some here."

We both step carefully over some of the burnt corpses littering the floor of the RV. Tanner reached a small cabinet towards the back and opened it up. Sure enough, there was the bag Dale used to carry our guns. He immediately began to sift through the bag, pulling out a small, black pistol and a larger rifle.

"Only two." he says, stuffing them back in the bag and zipping it up. "But there are some left over boxes of ammo in here too. That's gotta count for something."

I nod in agreement.

"Let's head over to the house then. See if we can give your dad and Michonne a hand."

He begins to move passed me for the exit of the RV, but I stop him before he's entirely out, grabbing his wrist gently. He stops and turns back, looking at me expectantly.

"Thanks, Tanner." I say somewhat shyly. "For coming with me to the hill and all."

He smiles and quickly takes a step up, affectionately removing my hat from the top of my head and planting a gentle kiss on my forehead before placing it back. And then he bounds back out of the RV with me chasing after him.

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

It took another good several minutes for us to make it across the lawn.

Rick and Michonne were exiting the front door as we approached, two bags each, clearly full of loot. The fact that Hershel's farm hadn't been looted since its original abandonment sort of surprised me, but I wasn't about to question it. We had definitely increased our supplies. I came astride Rick as he trotted down the wooden steps of Hershel's patio and began the march back towards the van. Carl was trailing behind, but only by a little. I think he was still in somewhat of a daze from having been back at the farm. Rick suddenly pulled ahead of me, leaving me behind with Michonne, and Carl trailing further behind us.

"So, how's he faring?" Michonne suddenly asked me, keeping her voice low so that neither Grimes could hear her.

"About the same as Rick." I reply equally silent. "He asked to go out to where he shot Shane. There are a lot of painful memories for both of them, it seems."

She nodded, "Hershel's death probably has something to do with it too. Its not easy to revisit the places the people you loved perished, but its even harder to return to someone's home and know you can't bring them along with you. Especially when it was someone as important to them as Hershel."

I nodded myself. It was sound logic.

"Did you ever talk to him after our little chat the other day?" she pressed on, now grinning slyly at me.

I glanced back to make sure Carl wasn't listening in, and he wasn't, still a ways behind us. I then returned my attention to Michonne and gave her a shy nod.

"And?"

"And... we came to an agreement." was the only answer I could come with that didn't ignite embarrassment all over again.

She chuckles lightly, "Just tell me the truth. You two shacked it up."

My eyes nearly explode out of their sockets, "We did not!" I bellow in embarrassment, only realizing that I had screamed that once it was too late.

As if they had heard a gunshot, Carl and Rick's heads both snapped up, with Rick turning to see behind him. Both of their expressions were questioning, glaring into me and probably thinking I had lost my mind. Despite this Michonne continues grinning, and eventually, we continue walking, with both Rick and Carl shaking their heads in unison. I could hear Carl chuckling somewhat behind me.

_He wouldn't be laughing if he had heard what she just said._ I think to myself.

"So?" she continues, and I curse the fact that she can't let the matter drop. "What agreement did you come to then?"

"We're..." I pause, picking my words carefully. "...together."

"Ah," she replies, grin returning. "Well, I was almost right. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

_Not if this keeps up,_ I retort sarcastically to myself.

We reach the car shortly thereafter and finally the four of us are within earshot of each other, so Michonne drops her awkward questioning. I quietly hand Rick the bag I had retrieved from Dale's RV and he tosses it into the van with the supplies he and Michonne had gathered from the house. He then retrieves a map and summons Michonne to follow him around the front of the van, wanting to plan out their next destination. So, Carl and I wandered off into the yard to be on our own. Unfortunately for me, Carl wasn't about to let my earlier outburst drop, and questioned me about it the moment we reached a safe distance from the adults.

"So, what were you and Michonne going on about?" he asks, craning and eyebrow at me.

"She wanted to know how you were feeling..." I try to dodge my outburst. "About being back at the farm and all."

He's not convinced.

"Then why did you scream that?"

I finally face him fully and notice that he is genuinely intrigued by this. I could lie to him and keep the fact that Michonne knows about us a secret, but I wasn't about to start lying to him, not now. Especially not with that cute, inquisitive expression on his face. I inhale a large breath, in anticipation, and then exhale in a large sigh.

"She thinks we're _shacking it up_." I reply, embarrassed to have to even repeat that phrase.

Carl's expression only seems to express more confusion, which is hilarious to me at first, until it dawns on me: Carl has no idea what I'm talking about. Suddenly, the pieces are coming together in my head. Carl is almost two years younger than me. Almost. That would mean that he was still quite young when the world went to shit. It was a good possibility he had never heard that type of slang used around him before, and therefore, had no clue what it meant. That only made the situation twice as embarrassing for me, because now I was going to have to explain it.

"Sex, Carl."

His face instantly turns from its normal, pasty white coloration to redder than a cherry. Its cute, hilarious, and mortifying all at the same time.

_At least he knows what sex is, _I gripe to myself.

"Does that mean she knows?!" he suddenly blurts out, face now nearing a purple color.

I just nod my head. I can't blame him for his reaction. I'm just as mortified by all of this as he is.

He goes quiet for a few moments, staring at his boots rather than at me. I suddenly find myself hoping he's not _mad_ about this development. He had wanted to keep our relationship quiet for the time being, but I couldn't help what Michonne knew. Even if I had said nothing to her at all, she would've figured it out. She's just that damn perceptive. But, as it turns out, Carl isn't mad at all. Instead he has a question that, for all intents and purposes, nearly caused me to faint:

"Can guys actually do that with each other?"

I wish I could've had a mirror at that precise moment. I know the look on my face must've been absolutely priceless. But Carl's tone is serious, so I try to regain my composure quickly.

"Yeah, dude." I reply, trying to sound collected. "The method is a bit different, but the mechanics are mostly the same."

"But... how?"

_Dammit, does **everyone** want to test the limits of my modesty today?!_

"Its kinda complicated, Carl." I finally say, dodging the question. "What has you interested about it? Surely your dad _has_ taught you about sex."

"Of course he has." Carl snaps. "Its how you make babies."

"Not if you are a dude..." I mutter under my breath.

"But guys can't have babies." Carl continues. His innocence on the matter is almost cute. The kid who can take a life without a second thought only knows the basics of sex. Its so ironic to me, that its almost painful to listen to. "So why would they have sex?"

"Because sex isn't just something you do to make babies." I blurt out, instantly regretting that I had. But the words are out, so I decide to finish the thought. Carl would only ask me again later if I didn't, so it'd be better to get it out now. "Sex is something you share with someone you love. It's supposed to feel really good and is a way of expressing your love for the other person. Hence the term 'making love'. You've heard that, right?"

He nods.

_Well at least he's heard that one._

Now he's looking at me, silently but observantly. And no matter what I do to keep my eyes ahead and in the clouds, I cannot drive out the thought that his eyes are drilling holes into the side of my face. Finally, I relent and turn back towards him.

"Something else you want to know?"

"Just one thing."

"What's that?"

"You love me."

"Yes."

_Oh god._

"And I love you."

"Sounds about right."

_I know where this is going._

"Does that mean we're going to have sex?"

_Whelp, somebody find me a shovel, because I have to start digging my grave._

"Not necessarily." I reply, and if I could high-five myself for the amazing level of nonchalance in that response, I would've. "Its a really special thing to share your body with another person. You have to be absolutely sure its what you want, and keep in mind that its a mutual thing. Its not something I'd ever force on you, hence why I've never brought it up. I love you. That's enough for me."

At first, I think that's enough to satisfy his questions, but Carl is always asking a million questions. The kid craves knowledge, and so, he continues on:

"Wow. You sure know a lot about it. Does that mean you have-"

I cut him off right there, "No. I've never had sex." I turn to him, my gaze suddenly more serious than before. "Maybe its just because I'm old fashion, but I wanted to wait for the right person. Someone I really cared about. Really loved. And before you... I'd never been in love."

This makes him smile from ear to ear, which, in a way makes me happy too. To finally admit that he's my first love. I shove my hands into my pocket and try to push back the feelings of embarrassment that are beginning to surface again. I notice him look behind us, obviously to see if his dad or Michonne are looking, because as soon as he's sure they're not, he slips his arms around me and hugs me hard.

"I feel the same."

####

Hours pass.

We're back on the road. Neither Rick nor Michonne have breathed a word since we were summoned back to the van. Not even to tell us where we were going. Not that I'd ever complain. As I've said, I don't care where we go, so long as Carl is with me. Carl, on the other hand, being my exact opposite when it comes to patience, decides to make it his personal mission to find out where we're going.

"So, Dad." he begins. "Were are we headed?"

Rick is driving this time, so he doesn't turn around, but, to my surprise, he does answer:

"I want to go back to King County. Check on Morgan. See if we can't find anymore useful weapons where he's at."

I knew that King County was the name of Carl's hometown, and Carl had mentioned Morgan once when explaining where he had been prior to the neighborhood we met in. So I wasn't entirely clueless. Night fast approaches, and we are quickly presented with a new problem to deal with. This van's headlights have long since shorted out. Realizing that we can't continue in completely blackness, Rick pulls the car to the side of the road and we all pile out. The moon is already beginning to rise in the sky.

"We don't have enough light to make it to King County." Michonne points out.

Rick nods in agreement, "We'll camp out here for the night. Sleep in the car. Each of us can take turns taking watch."

"I'll go first." I volunteer.

"You sure?" Rick asks.

"Yeah, its no problem." I reply. "I'm a night owl as it is."

"Alright, then here are the shifts." Rick continues. "Tanner is on first watch. Carl will take over for him, then I'll take over, and then Michonne. Since there are four of us, we'll each keep watch for two hours. That will put the final watch ending at dawn."

We all nod our agreement.

"Let's get some rest then." Rick finishes, climbing back in the car. Michonne follows him, getting back into her seat, but Carl lingers.

"Goodnight." he says, smiling softly at me.

"Goodnight." I reply, returning his smile.

He reluctantly climbs back into the back seat, where we had been sitting. I sorely regret that I can't give him a kiss goodnight, but I'm planning to rectify that the moment my shift is up and he comes to replace me. Retrieving a flashlight from the trunk, as well as a small packet of chips, I climb onto the top of the car, sprawl out and gaze off into the sky.

It takes a good hour for things to become pitch black. At this point, my flashlight is on, my swords sitting on either side of me. Its a peaceful night, and with the world no longer bathed in light pollution from the major cities, the Milky Way is spread out before me like the masterpiece of a famous painter. I sigh to myself and smile. My life has become really good since I had met Carl, and through him, Michonne and Rick. Its odd, but in a way, I'm happier than I ever was in the world prior to this. Odd that it takes the world ending to bring true happiness into my life.

Suddenly, there is a rustling to my right, causing me to snap upwards, aiming the beam of my light towards the treeline.

_I could've sworn I heard-_

A sharp pain shoots through the back of my skull as something very hard is shoved into it.

"Don't move." Its a man's voice.

And that's when I make the horrifying realization that the object jabbed into the back of my skull is the barrel of a gun...

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger! I know. Its a terrible thing for me to do to you all, but I promise the next chapter will make it all worth it. No spoilers though! In other news, tonight's episode was a masterpiece. Loved Michonne and Carl's growing friendship. It was quite nice to watch.**

**I'll answer reviews and comments in the next chapter, so enjoy the read and see you for the next one, which should be much, much longer!**

**P.S: In case you guys didn't pick it up in this chapter, with all the references, I will be writing the smut in after all. So, look forward to that. hahaha**


	8. The Unleashing

"Don't fucking move."

The voice was demanding, and the rude barrel of gun was pressing hard into the back of my skull. Even with my swords a hair's width away from me, I knew that there was no way I could defend and survive. He'd pull the trigger long before I had the chance to fight back. I did managed to look behind me to see who my mysterious attacker was. Only, to my horror, there wasn't just one of them. There were four. Three older men, looking to be about in their late forties, and a fourth that looked to be at least fifty. All three of them appeared emaciated. Nevertheless, the tallest one had a revolver, and it was pointed directly at my skull.

"You done fucked up, kid." the revolver-holding man spoke up. "This here is our road. Now, you're gonna have to pay up."

He turned to the three goons he had brought with him, not releasing his hold on me for a second.

"Get the three inside."

And before I could protest or plea with them to leave the others alone, the doors to the van were violently tore open and a startled Rick, Carl, and Michonne were dragged out. The gun wielding thug to the opportunity to yank me down from the top of the van, knocking my swords into the street in the process. I hit the frigid concrete with a loud _THUD_ and suddenly I'm seeing stars. Pain shoots up my leg and I realize my daze gives him a chance to use his gun as leverage, forcing me to the side of the road, while the others continued to rough up the rest of my group. Even Michonne had been rendered helpless, as her sword was still inside the van.

"Hey!" I finally managed to bark, tasting blood in my mouth in the process, "Leave them alone!"

"Hah!" one of the thugs cackles. "Its just some helpless kids, and two misfits!"

Panic is rising in my chest. From my vantage point, I can neither see the fourth thug, nor Carl, but I can hear him struggling on the other side of the car. Both Rick and Michonne seem to have their hands tied as well. In my panic, I try to frantically come up with a plan of action, but in the heat of the moment, my mind draws a blank, and I am rendered helpless for the first time since the time at the Atlanta camp. And then the memories come rushing back. History is finally repeating itself as I had always told myself it would.

"Carl!" Rick's cry of outrage and panic draws me out of my own.

The former cop is struggling furiously against his own captor, who has since drawn a very large knife. He can see Carl, where I cannot, and is furiously trying to reach him. But the man restraining Rick is both stronger and more resilient. It probably doesn't help that, though better than before, Rick is still nursing his own wounds. He chuckles at Rick's fruitless attempts to free himself and rescue his son.

"Now hold on there, cowboy!" the thug chides him. "Let's not do anything stupid, eh? We won't kill you unless you force our hand!"

"Dad! Help!"

Carl's cry suddenly slices through the night sky, freezing my blood in the veins. And finally, Carl is dragged out into the moonlight where I can see him. His captor has him by the hair, and the usual tough and fearless Carl is rendered helpless to fight back against him. I can only barely make out the look of terror on his face. His hands were up over his head, clasping onto the man's wrists. Clearly he was trying to free the fistful of hair the thug was using to restrain him.

"Shut the fuck up!" his captor snarls at him, dragging him further to the side of the road, opposite where I'm being held.

In a moment of rage, Rick slams his head backwards, colliding with his own captor's jaw, forcing the man to drop his knife. The _CRACK_ that is created when Rick's head collides with the goon's mandible causes me to wince. Even still, the thug retains his hold on Rick, and only seems to become further enraged by his attempts to escape. The man's mouth is now covered in blood, and yet, a sinister grin crawls across his face.

"Still won't give up, huh? I suppose we should teach him a lesson, eh boys?"

My eyes flash between Rick, the helpless Carl, and Michonne. Michonne has been very quiet throughout the ordeal, but there is an undeniable look of fury on her face. I can tell she's just biding her time for the right moment to strike, though none of us want to put Carl in any further danger. Rick seizes the moment and manages to free himself from the thug holding him, spinning around and delivering a powerful punch to the man's jaw. The thug staggers backwards, but doesn't relent, delivering a swift knee to Rick's abdomen... right in the gun wound he had received from the Governor, and was still, by all accounts, recovering from. Rick crumbles like cardboard, and the thug resumes his hold on him.

"I can't let that go unpunished!" the thug hisses with venom. Blood is now dripping from his face like a fountain. "That's your kid isn't it? Hey, take the kid's pants off."

The blood in my veins is suddenly so cold, it threatens to freeze my heart and stop it entirely. I suddenly realize what they're going to do.

_No... No, no, no... Not that..._

The thug holding Carl complies, ripping Carl's jeans down around his knees without even doing the courtesy of unfastening the button on them. Suddenly, Carl is out in the open, his pants hanging around his ankles, in nothing but his briefs. Michonne looks as horrified. All I can do is stare and continue silently praying that _something. Somoene, _will intervene. Perhaps I'll wake up and find out that it was all a nightmare. That'd I had fallen asleep on watch and they'd all be safe back in the van. But that never happens. Rick tries pleading for his son:

"Please..." he coughs, still reeling from his wound. "Don't..."

"You'll get yours soon enough, asshole." the thug holding Rick spits. "Just wait your turn. You brought this on yourself, now we're going to have some fun with your boy. Keep that in mind as you watch!"

"No! Stop!" Carl's voice draws my attention.

"Quit your squirming!"

I quickly become aware of the struggle between Carl and his captor. They're both on the ground, the thug holding him down by sitting on top of him, wrestling with Carl as the young Grimes furiously fights to get him off. Rick must've realized that if he doesn't do something, Carl's fate doesn't look good, and so he once again revives his attempts to escape, despite his injury. My eyes, however, are transfixed on Carl and his dilemma. I've never felt so helpless in my life. Gun to my head, watching the boy I love about to be raped. Just as I had feared... its Atlanta all over again. Minus the walkers.

_They're going to kill us all... Carl is going to be... and then they're gonna..._

"Think you can still beat me?" Rick's captor is snarling. "We're gonna fuck 'yer boy and then-"

...and then I snap.

A bellow of murderous rage pierces the sky...

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

The loud shriek now ringing in my ears is not that of my attacker. Nor of Dad's. And definitely not Michonne's. Its primal, full of venom and rage. A cold shiver travels up my skin, and goosebumps form. Did they kill someone? I've never known a human being to scream like that, but then again, walkers didn't make that kind of noise either. Suddenly, the man struggling to gain a position over me stops, still fisting a large clump of my hair to keep me from moving. I'm in pain, tears streaking down my face, and the only thing I can think of is that I want my Mom, Dad, Michonne, Tanner, anyone. Just to be anywhere but here... And then the voice that screamed is speaking and I recognize the speaker's voice.

"Stop it..." its low at first.

I struggle to see around my attacker's larger form, and finally am able to make out the figures standing on the opposite side of the road. Tanner is being held at gunpoint by another goon, who's own face is contorted into a malicious grin. But Tanner's face is different. The expression on his face is anything but fear. The expression on his face doesn't even seem human. It almost scares me. His eyes, which are usually understanding and confident, are now, illuminated by the eerie lunar light of the moon, filled with a murderous rage. And he's looking straight at my attacker. If looks could kill, everything in his line of sight would've withered and died right there. When my captor doesn't release me, Tanner screams again:

"I said..." he says again. "_**STOP IT**_!"

His movement is so swift and without warning that I barely catch it before its over. His leg sweeps backwards, catching his still-grinning captor off guard, and sending him hard to the ground; the gun that was tight in his hand flying out of that hand and across the road, out of reach. And in a blur of movement, Tanner is free and bounding across the road. He snatches his nearest sword, the long blade, flinging the blade free of its sheath, and then he's upon the man who is holding down Dad.

"Don't underestimate me, bra-"

But the thug's boast is cut short as the blade of Tanner's weapon slams through the man's skull, causing him to immediately go limp. Freeing Dad. And Dad is flying across the road for the gun that was dropped by the earlier thug. The goon holding Michonne has released her and, in the distraction, she has managed to hold him off. Having successfully snatched the gun off of the road, Dad fires off a round, killing the thug and Michonne is suddenly free, racing for her sword in the still-open van. Tanner is in motion again, and from behind him, I can see the older man, who had originally captured him, recovering from his fall. He snatches the knife dropped by one of his dead cohorts, the one who originally was holding Dad, and raced at Tanner from behind.

"Tanner!" I shriek, trying to warn him, but unable to help.

"DIE!" the thug bellows.

But Tanner is much too quick. In his murderous frenzy, he pivots on his right foot, slashing his attacker directly across his abdomen, immediately spilling his entrails onto the pavement. I have no time to feel relief, because a sudden burning sensation on my head snaps me back to my own predicament. The man still holding me tightens his grip on me, placing me in a very tight choke hold.

"Stay back, or this kid is history!" he threatens.

Now outnumbered, three to one, it seems he's realized that his only choice is to use me as a bartering chip. Only, by now its becoming hard to breath and I feel my consciousness slipping slowly away. A few more pained tears slip out of my eyes, and I attempt to pry the man's arm off me to no avail. Dad levels his gun at the man, but hesitates when he realizes he could hit me if he shoots.

"Let him go." Dad's voice is nearly as murderous as Tanner's was, but there was a slight snarl to it.

Michonne is back, sword in hand, and is prepared to dive in with Dad, when she is suddenly stopped dead in her tracks by Tanner, who holds out his arm to stop her. I see Dad shoot him a shocked expression. There, bathed in the full light of the moon, is Tanner, covered in the blood of the two men he'd killed. His hair is disheveled from the fast-paced action. He looks absolutely murderous. The look in his eyes have only gotten more intense. And then he speaks.

"He's mine."

So_ that's_ why he'd stopped Michonne.

He was trying to free me himself.

My captor is petrified by the sight before him, so I use the moment to my advantage. Summoning what remained of my strength, I slammed my elbow into the man's gut, forcing him to release me with a pained gasp. And I run. Hard, pants still around my ankles, I run as fast as they'll allow me. Dad walks up next to Tanner, lowering his gun. Behind me, the thug is regaining his composure after my rebellion, but is making no movement to chase after me.

"Let me." I hear my dad say.

Tanner must've known I was running to him, because he relents, handing Dad his sword. My fallen pants catch on my shoes and suddenly I'm falling... falling... falling... right into Tanner's arms. He catches me and then kneels down, pulling me as close as humanly possible. I hear Dad killing my attacker, but I don't see it. Because the entire time, I'm too busy crying into Tanner's chest. I feel Tanner tense, suddenly, and then Michonne let's out a warning cry:

"Rick! Walkers!"

I pull my head away from Tanner's chest just in time to see them lumbering out of the woods. The noise from the gunshots and the fighting must've drawn them from all around. The moonlight, combined with my residual tears, made it incredibly difficult to make out exactly how many of them there were, but from my estimates, there were a good fifteen, maybe more. I could hear snarls behind me, so I knew there were others coming from the other side of the woods as well.

"Tanner!"

Its Michonne's voice again. One of Tanner's arms uncoils itself from me, reaching out to catch an object she had thrown to him. My gun. She must've gotten it from the car when she had retrieved her sword. With one of Tanner's swords on the road and another with Dad, it was his only choice for a weapon. I hear the first shot ring out, likely Dad, who still had the gun he had taken earlier. Then Tanner, who still has his free arm wrapped tightly around me, squeezes the trigger of my pistol. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Michonne furiously digging through the bags in the trunk of the car, retrieving the shotgun we'd procured from Dale's RV. She cocks it once and pops off a shot.

The shooting continues for a good five minutes, as Dad, Michonne, and Tanner take out walker after walker. Michonne runs out of ammo first, so Dad and Tanner finish off the remaining undead. But, almost as if having waited for this precise moment, a hiss rises up from nearby in the road. I glance back and see what it is. The man who had tried to attack me had reanimated despite the severity of the stab wounds Dad had inflicted upon him. Dad turns in time to notice him, but doesn't do anything, having noticed Tanner raising his own gun.

"Like I said." Tanner hisses. "He's mine."

There's a shot.

And its finally over.

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Sunlight arrives, but I haven't slept.

After the attack, Carl had cried himself to sleep in my arms. I'd watched Rick finish Carl's would-be-rapist completely off, but I wasn't satisfied. _I_ should've been the one to do it. Killing his reanimated corpse hadn't been nearly as satisfying as I had hoped it would be. Afterwards, I'd put Carl's sleeping form back into the car, where he originally was meant to sleep. I want desperately to stay with him, but Michonne suggested I got some sleep myself, and vowed to watch over him. But I hadn't slept. I had found myself sat up against the side of the SUV until the sun rose above the horizon. Rick was the first one awake, stumbling out of the van. He noticed me and, to my surprise, lowered himself down to sit beside me.

"You still haven't slept?" he asks, his own weariness apparent in his voice.

I say nothing. I'm too numb to really give a reply.

"Was that your first time killing someone living?" he changes tactics.

This time I nod, but my gaze stays on the road ahead. Rick sighs.

"Its a moment you can't come back from." he suddenly says. "As much as you want to, you can't move passed it."

I'm silent still, but he's right. Slaying those men has already changed me, but not just because I killed them. Watching Carl get hurt like that. I hated myself for allowing it to happen. If I had only been paying more attention instead of daydreaming, I could've warned them, and then Carl wouldn't have gotten hurt. I was furious with myself.

"I'm sorry, Rick." I finally manage.

"For what?" Rick's voice cracks as he says it. Obviously, he didn't see the need for my apology.

"If I had been watching more carefully, this all...-"

"Don't blame yourself." he cuts me off. "Could've happened to any of us."

"But you got hurt... and Carl..."

"Is safe, thanks to you." he finishes for me. "If you hadn't distracted those men, they would've succeeded. You did what needed to be done."

Even though Rick meant that in a way to cheer me up, it doesn't work. Either way, Carl got hurt. I promised him I would protect him and I failed.

"My son is all I have left." he tells me. "I don't think there's anything I _wouldn't_ do to protect him. And that scares me sometimes."

"Your son is all I have left too." I suddenly admit, no longer caring if Rick found out that I love Carl. After what happened, I don't care if anyone knows. Nor do I care what they think.

Rick shoots me a puzzled look.

"My family is dead." I elaborate. "My former group gone too. Carl is the last good thing I have to hold onto in this world." For the first time since he sat down, I look Rick directly in the eyes. "I would do anything to protect him. Even if it means losing whatever it is that makes me human."

"Then you and I think alike."

His reply shocks me. Not by what he says, but _how_ he said it. Immediately, without thought. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if he knew after all.

But our conversation is cut short by the backdoor swinging open. Carl steps out, eyes still heavy with exhaustion. He glances down at us, fists his hands into his pockets, and then begins to walk over to the side of the road.

Without even wasting time to think about it, I'm up and following him, leaving Rick sitting beside the car alone. He makes no movement to follow us. Carl continues to walk until we're both in the woods, which looks oddly similar to the woods in which I first saved his life, from the pack of walkers. He finally stops under an enormous tree and leans back against it. I stop a few feet in front of him and we both simply stare at the ground in silence. His cheeks and eyes are still red and swollen from where he had been crying the night before. Seeing him like this was ripping my insides apart. It was unbearable. As if someone had taken a scolding hot needle and rammed it through my heart.

"I'm sorry, Carl..." I finally managed to say, choking back sudden tears.

He makes no indication that he's heard me, or that he plans to respond, so I continue.

"I wasn't paying attention. If I had, those goons would've never gotten close to-"

I pause when his head comes up, revealing his crystalline eyes, which twinkle in the morning sunlight. He's without his hat this morning, having left it in the car. His hair is disheveled, eyelids drooping low from exhaustion. His gaze is studying me, as if he's trying to say something, but either can't or just simply doesn't. I suddenly step forward, crunching leaves beneath my shoes, and wrap my strong arms around him, pulling him into the best bear hug I can muster. He doesn't move, resist, twitch... just nothing...

"Please forgive me." I whisper.

I don't deserve it. His forgiveness.

"There's nothing to forgive." he suddenly says. "You didn't do anything wrong."

We pull apart for a moment and he's back to looking at me studiously.

"But if I had just-"

He moves without warning, cutting me off by smashing his mouth on top of mine. His hands are on the back of my head, seizing a fistful of my hair. At first, I'm stunned. Usually I'm the one who initiates our kissing, and even then, only when he's already expecting one. But this kiss is different from any of the others we've shared. This one is forceful, passionate... almost hungry. As shock wears off, I wrap my arms around his waist and return his kiss. If this is what he needs to release steam, I'm all too happy to oblige. Carl's kissing is sloppy and less elegant than mine, though I'm certainly no expert myself, but I simply go with the flow, following his lead, rolling my tongue around his. And Carl's not out of surprises yet. He once again shocks me with his initiative, slowly backing me against a tree I wasn't aware was behind me to begin with. Its hard to be aware of your surroundings in situations like this, you see. I don't back into it particularly hard, but with me pinned to a solid surface, Carl's kissing becomes more forceful.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, we separate with a loud, wet, _smack_.

My eyes flutter open, and the first thing I notice is how swollen his lips are. The next are his eyes. Gone are his weary, sleepy eyes. Replaced by fully blown pupils. The gaze of a predator on the prowl. And, for the first time, I must admit; he looks absolutely sexy like that. But my thoughts are still on last night, which starts to drown my sexual desire.

"Why-"

"Because you saved me, again." he doesn't give me a chance to question him. "And one day, I'm gonna to repay you. For all of it."

"You don't have to repay me, Carl." I reply, serious as ever. "You would've done the same."

He nods. His pupils haven't decreased in size and I notice that he's breathing heavy. At first I thought it may have been due to oxygen deprivation, after such a ferocious kiss, but it wouldn't take him this long to regain his composure. The way he's looking at me reminds me of a documentary I saw on the Animal Planet once: a lion who is protecting his territory has a very similar look. I almost snort at the comparison. Carl the lion, me his territory. It wasn't such a bad comparison. But it _was_ funny, even if I didn't laugh aloud.

"What is it?" I ask him when he continues to stare at me.

"I want to." he blurts out without hesitation.

My eyebrow raises. Sometimes Carl will just blurt things out without elaborating. Particularly when he's antsy or excited. But he's neither of these things as far as I can tell.

"You want to, what?" I question him, folding my arms across my chest.

"Make love." I can feel my mouth fall open. "You and me."

I nearly black out right then and there.

"But Carl, you were just almost raped." I protest. "Don't feel like you have to just because I protected you. You have to think about it."

Carl violently shakes his head, "No. I've thought about it plenty. You said that its something two people who love each other share together, so we should. My mind is made up."

When Carl Grimes has his mind made up, nothing short of a herd of walkers is going to change it, and even then they'd have a tough time. He's stubborn and I can see the look on his face telling me he won't take no for an answer. That isn't to say that I don't want to, either. But, in the grand scheme of things, I feel terrible. To me, it feels like he wants to as some form of gratitude. He _did_ just tell me he was going to repay me for helping him. If Carl and I were going to do anything beyond just kissing, I wanted us both to be okay with it, not doing it out of some misplaced sense of gratitude.

"Carl, listen-"

"No, Tanner." he snaps. "_You_ listen. I was already thinking about this back at the farm. When we talked about it. And you were right. It is a careful decision I have to make. You said that you were waiting for the person you would fall in love with to share it with and I told you the same thing. I've made up my mind. That person is _you_."

I study Carl carefully. It doesn't take much to tell me he's completely serious. Still, there is the lingering doubt that he's just saying that so that I won't feel bad for giving in. But then, Carl is not one to lie about what's really on his mind. I sigh, letting a small smile slip, and let my arms fall to their sides. In my doubt, I had almost missed the fact that he had, in not so many words, just confessed he was in love with me. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. Kicking off from the tree he had backed me into earlier, I walk forward and rest my hands on his shoulders, looking down the short distance between our heights, my eyes meeting his.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Carl." I sigh happily. "You know that, right?"

He snorts a laugh.

I'm glad he's still able after what happened to him. It would rend my soul in two if I had to watch him suffer for it. Gently, I slip my arms around him and pull him into another hug. This one he reciprocates. For a good five to six minutes we just stand there, holding each other, listening to the sound of the birds rising in the morning; the morning sun now peaking through the leaves at the tops of the trees.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" I ask him, still slightly unsure.

He nods into my chest. "I'm sure. I-"

He pauses, words still at the tip of his tongue.

"I love you, Tanner."

For the second time that day, I'm brought dizzyingly close to fainting. This time I actually feel my knees get weak and I have to tighten my hug on Carl to stay upright. He's never said those words to me. Not in that order. Not in that manner. Not in that way. He's hinted at it before, yes. But never... _said_ it. And I'm suddenly so happy that it takes every bit of willpower I have not to laugh and cry at the same time. So I squeeze him tighter instead.

"I love you too, Carl." I reply, sounding almost as though I were in a dream. "Alright, if that's what you want, I won't argue anymore, but-"

"Boys!"

Its Michonne's voice. She's calling us from out of sight, probably out by the road.

"Let's move!"

I turn back to Carl: "But not here." I continue. "We need more privacy."

He sighs, almost sounding disappointed, but relents with a nod. I'm in no hurry to do this, though I will admit excitement and curiosity are there. Perhaps we'll get some time alone in the next few nights and I'll satisfy his curiosity. But for now, we break our hug and start running through the trees towards where we left Michonne and Rick.

A new day had finally dawned...

* * *

**A/N: Intense chapter, no? xD... For those of you who are at least aware of what goes on in the comics, that first scene was (spoiler alert) inspired by something that actually happens to Carl and Rick later on in the comics. I'm going to be a nervous wreck when they air that scene on TV. _IF_ they air it. I just added my own flair to it. It allowed me to show a side of Tanner I haven't yet gotten to. We all know Carl was affected by the world they live in. Made him cold and uncaring at one point. Well, we get to see that side of Tanner this chapter at the beginning, which I think is important to show, so I hope I didn't traumatize anyone with Carl's little close call there.**

**Now then, onto the reviews:**

**Guest: Yuuup, they were in BIG trouble. **

**TLS: I actually had a hard time writing that scene, so I'm glad you found it funny xD hahaha I just figured Carl would know very, very, scant details on the sexual side of relationships, given his age when shit hit the fan. This is in contrast to Tanner being slightly older, and therefore, more versed in those things.**

**Youngblooded: Good to hear from you again! I wanted to emphasize Carl's growth there. But more to the point, I wanted to get underneath how much killing Shane, being responsible for Dale, and seeing Sophia turn really impacted Carl. I'm glad you asked that question, though. To be honest with you, I haven't based Tanner on a real-life model, either appearance wise or personality wise. Other than scant few physical descriptions, I wanted to leave his appearance ambiguous for the most part, because, like you, I'm a visual reader and feel I can connect with the character better if I create how they look in my mind. When I first read your question, I Googled some random guys to see if I could find one that looked like how _I _visualize Tanner when I write him, but none of them quite fit his description. All I can really say is that he looks like an average teenage boy: strong built, slightly longer hair (about the same length as Carl's), blue eyes (I actually think I described his eyes a few chapters back). But other than that, his appearance is totally up to your imagination :) I hope that helps! Thanks again for staying in touch and reviewing! Means a lot.**

**NOxONE: I'm so glad you enjoyed it enough to binge read! I recently found a story that was like that for me as well. Its always a sign of a good read when you can't seem to put it down. :) I do hope you will stick with me to the end and continue to enjoy!**

**#######**

**Okay, now that I've responded to those, I need to put a notice up. From here on out, there will be some more adult content than usual. I should've put this warning out before this chapter, but I never got around to it. So, if sexual content between teenage boys bothers you, this is the Disclaimer. But, for those of you enjoying the story, the plot will not revolve around sex. I do have a story in mind that I intend to keep telling, but this is just a heads up that sex _will_ be involved in some of the future chapters.**

**Thank you all for reading. Your reviews and comments are heartwarming and inspiration to continue on! I hope you can all enjoy this until the end!**

**Until the next chapter,**

**Later!**


	9. A Talk With Michonne

The nightmares are back.

Waking with a jolt, the entire upper half of my body is covered in sweat. Heart racing. Mind scattered. Just a brief glance at my surroundings is evidence as to how bad they are becoming. The sleeping bag that I had so neatly prepared before falling asleep was in complete, chaotic disarray. But at last I am able to bring myself to my senses, comforted that it was only a dream.

_A dream about Carl being raped, _I remind myself.

Its been three days since that incident.

Rick had abandoned his original plan to return to King County, having instead picked some smaller town not far from Hershel's farm. Our car had run out of gas and so it was back to traveling on foot unless we could find another source of fuel, and that didn't seem very likely. We decided to take shelter in a gated storage complex, rather than a home we would've had to clear. There had been very few walkers inside the fences when we arrived, so it was much easier to clean up and prepare as a short term base of operations for the time being. Glancing around me, I could see, in the darkness, the forms of my companions. Michonne was the closest to me. Her mouth is slightly open and I can faintly hear the sounds of her snores. On the other side of her is Carl, whom I only know is there due to the bluish tint of the sleeping bag he's in, because somewhere in his slumber, he had curled into a ball, concealing himself fairly well. Rick was on the other side of him, sprawled out on top of his sleeping bag rather than in it.

Relieved that they are all okay, I let myself gently fall back against the cushioning of my own sleeping bag. My thoughts are still swimming. I hadn't slept decently since the ordeal on the roadside three nights ago. At the time, both Rick and Carl had assured me that they didn't blame me for what happened, and Michonne had seemed to share their sentiment once it actually had come up again. Nevertheless, that didn't help the nagging feeling of guilt I'd had ever since. I rolled over on my side, glancing over Michonne to find the lump of bedding where Carl was. My heart suddenly leaps into my throat. What I wouldn't give to be closer to him. To wrap my arms protectively over him. But we can't.

Not here.

I suddenly find myself longing for the day when we don't have to keep _us_ secret.

But for now, I'm forced to accept this arrangement. My eyes start getting heavy again, and once more, sleep welcomes me into its embrace...

####

"Let's split up and go on a run."

Its Rick. Morning had come much faster than I had wanted it to. But, doesn't it always?

"Michonne, you and Tanner will be one team, and I'll take Carl with me."

Well, if last night hadn't put a damper on my mood, that certainly had. I always looked forward to going on runs, because it usually meant Carl and I would get paired together and have a few hours alone. Not that I minded being paired with Michonne, but I got precious little time alone with my boyfriend as it was. And it looked like today that time would be even less. He gives me a half smile from where he is beside Rick. Clearly he shares my sentiments. I smile back, hoping it at least reassures him a little bit.

"Our primary objective is fuel." Rick continues. "Get as much of it as possible, if you're able. If you find anything else useful, get it too. We'll meet back here in a few hours, about noon."

Michonne and I both nod in unison and then we all split up, going our separate ways. I briefly glance over my shoulders and watch Carl fade away into the distance. The unsettling feeling in my stomach is back. The fear. Anxiety. What if something goes wrong? What if something happens and I'm not there this time? Rick is a tough one, I know that, and he could probably defend Carl much better than me, but as I've come to discover over time: fear is irrational. It doesn't need a logical reason to eat you alive from the inside out. It finds a weakness in your psyche and latches onto it. Feeds on it. Grows stronger and stronger. And my fear is losing Carl. I'm suddenly brought back to reality when Michonne elbows me in the shoulder.

"Tanner!" she snaps.

"Sorry," I apologize. "Must've been daydreaming."

"I'll say." she flashes me a concerned glance. "What's going on with you lately? You seem... distant."

I keep my gaze on my feet, "Its nothing. Just haven't been able to sleep lately. That's all."

I should've known better than to give her such a flimsy answer. Michonne was usually pretty good at calling bullshit when she sees it. And the moment the words finished leaving my mouth, that's exactly what she did:

"You and I both know that's not the full truth."

I stop mid-stride and turn to face her. She's already done the same, hands on her hips, expecting an answer.

"Its still bothering me." I confess. "What happened the other day."

She sighs. "I figured as much."

I continue walking, "Its just... I don't know." I release a long sigh. "I still blame myself for what happened. I know Carl and Rick don't. I don't think you do either, but I do. I feel guilty. If someone else had been on watch other than me-"

"The same thing would've happened to a different person." Michonne cut me off. "That's all. Listen, you can't keep blaming yourself for things you have no control over."

"That's easy for you to say." I snap back. "Have you ever felt responsible for something that you had no control over?"

She's silent. I hadn't intended to actually get her with that question, but it seems to have had that very effect. She picks up her pace, pulling ahead of me towards the nearest building: some sort of Auto-Repair shop. But now I'm curious. She reaches for the handle to the front door but when I speak up she stops short of opening it.

"Michonne," I say with emphasis. "Have you?"

I can hear her exhale and she remains still, hand still clutching the doorknob. Finally, she turns around, leaning back against the door and levels her gaze with mine.

"Has Carl ever mentioned to you anyone by the name of Andrea?"

I nod. "Once or twice. She was with them at the farm."

"Correct." she continues. "She got separated from them there and I found her in the woods. Saved her in a similar manner to the way you saved Carl from those walkers that day you met. We were together through the winter until..."

Her voice catches.

"Until?"

"Until Woodbury."

I had heard of Woodbury briefly from Carl. It was the town the Governor had controlled when they were at the prison. Most of the residents had moved to the prison after the Governor was exposed as the true monster he was. Carl had told me that he had never been to Woodbury himself, so there wasn't much else he could fill me in on. I suppose I was about to get that little tidbit of information filled in.

"What happened?"

"She became very enthralled with a man she met there. The leader of this town."

"The Governor?" I ask without thinking.

Michonne nods, "So he told you about him too, huh? Yes. It was the Governor. I tried to convince her that he was a very bad man. That something wasn't right about the town he was running, but she didn't listen. She stayed behind and I left, thinking that she'd eventually come to her senses. I found the prison right after that. Carl saved me from some walkers that had cornered me. Andrea showed up there soon after, but she didn't stay. She only wanted to instigate peace between the prison and Woodbury..."

Michonne trailed off for a moment. I can immediately see all the pain of these memories coming back to her at once.

"The Governor had her killed. Bitten by a walker. When I found her, after the fighting, it was too late. I stayed with her while she... ended it... herself."

Suddenly I'm very sorry I had asked about all of this. Clearly, this was one part of her past that she tried to bury. I knew how she felt though. I had lost so much at the camp in Atlanta, and I had almost lost something even more precious the other night. I sigh out loud.

"I'm sorry, Michonne. I didn't mean-"

"Don't be sorry." she says soothingly. "You see, I know how you feel. To this day I still think, 'If only I had done something different. If only I had made her see more clearly how he really was, she could be here today.' But, she had made up her mind. What was I supposed to do? Drag her out of there kicking and screaming? There are always going to be things you can't control. But you can't let that get to you. You did what you could. That's what matters."

I nod. She's right, of course. Her story has eased my feelings of guilt, even if just a little.

"Now, let's go find us some fuel, so that we can get out of this hellhole."

Placing one hand on our swords, I give her a nod, and Michonne pushes the door to the shop open. Its dark and dusty inside, but there is no immediate stench of death, so we set to work rummaging around the place. The place doesn't look to have been looted. Everything is still stacked neatly on the shelves where they had last been. I remember having seen a garage attached to the side of the building, and a door off to my left has me suspecting that it might be the inside entrance to that garage, so I head in that direction. Sure enough, the door opens, and I'm in an open expanse, light filtering in from the windows on the closed garage doors. I smile when I see what is sitting on the shelves across from me.

"Michonne!" I shout, my voice echoing through the expanse. "I found something."

Her head pops through the threshold seconds later and I'm standing in front of her holding two full cans reeking of the smell of gasoline. She smiles.

"That was almost _too_ easy." she comments.

"There are two more over there." I motion my head in the direction of the shelf. "Grab 'em and let's get the hell out of here."

####

The sun has risen a little higher since we entered the shop, but its still nowhere close to noon.

"Let's go over there." she says spontaneously, pointing to a small park nearby where we were walking.

I give her a funny look, more questioning than anything.

"C'mon, we'll take a load off. I've got these!" She pulls out a handful of candy bars she apparently had plucked off the racks by the cash register back at the shop. I hadn't seen her grab them, but she always brought back some for Carl and I whenever she went on runs in the past, so I wasn't surprised when she had them with her.

"Can't argue with candy." I snort in response.

She leads me through the fences and we both plop down on the swing-set near the center. I must admit, it was amusing to see Michonne, a fully grown woman, sitting in a swing, idly rocking it back and forth. She tosses me a Snickers bar and begins digging in to her own candy. I'm all to happy to oblige and begin to furiously unwrap the chocolate. We stay that way for a little while, not saying anything, but simply enjoying our little break. We had left the four containers of gasoline a little ways away from us. Still in plain sight. Once she finishes her bar, she tosses the wrapper behind her and firmly wraps her fingers around the chains holding her swing in place. A sly grin crosses her face.

"Bet I can swing higher than you." she suddenly challenges.

I eye her incredulously, a grin of my own forming. Michonne very rarely shows her playful side, but when she does, its _very_ contagious.

"Alright." I say, tossing my own wrapper behind me. "You're on."

Both of us are sporting massive grins as we kick off the ground, swinging our legs forward and then backwards, trying to gain momentum. I'm surprised at how quickly she's ascending. We both break out into laughter the higher and faster we go. Nostalgia sweeps over me like a freight train. I can remember being young and having swinging competitions like this with my brother, sister, and our cousins. Even when I was in elementary school this was a common game we played as children. In those days, it would've been odd for a seventeen year old boy and a fully grown woman to have such a competition, but those standards, along with most of the others that applied to the old world, had flown out the window, and now we were fully enjoying our spontaneous competition. Without warning, upon reaching the peak of her swing, Michonne slips out of the seat and lands flat on her feet several inches in front of the swing set. Following her lead, I do the same, though my landing is somewhat less graceful than hers.

She laughs, "I think I beat you."

"No way!" I bark in a kidding fashion. "Mine definitely went higher!"

"Next time we're bringing Carl." she says, still giggling like some school girl. "I need a witness."

"Anytime, Michonne." I counter. "Anytime."

We take a moment to catch our breath. It felt good to act like a kid again, even if it was only for a moment. But coming back to reality, I realize there is something else I want to discuss with her.

"Michonne?"

"What is it, kiddo?" she replied, going over to the tree we had dropped our weapons to retrieve her's.

"Thank you for..." I pause. "...for just being there. You always seem to know the right thing to say."

She pursed her lips, but then smiled.

"We all need advice from time to time." she responds. "Even me."

I stop short of joining her and pose another question:

"I have... something I want to ask you about." I say. "Between us for now?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Its Carl..." I pause. "The other day, in the woods, he..." I can feel my face suddenly getting flush.

She cranes one eyebrow.

Finally I suck it up, inhaling largely, and just say it: "He asked me to 'make love'."

If she had been drinking, the expression on her face told me she would've just spit it all out. Clearly that was not the topic she was expecting me to bring up, but, being as that she was the only one that knew about us, she was also the only one I could talk to about it.

"And?" she finally speaks. "What did you say?"

"Well," I choose carefully how to phrase the next statement. "At first I told him I didn't think it was a good idea, because it felt like he was just doing it because he felt the need to pay me back, or something, for helping him out with those thugs. But... but then he said that he loved me, and now..."

"You're confused?"

I nod. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to let him down, but I don't want to do something like that for the wrong reasons."

She sighs, shaking her head.

"Never in my lifetime did I think I'd ever be giving a teenage boy this kind of advice." she chuckled. "Listen to me."

And I am listening, because I'm genuinely lost here.

"Doing something like that is a major commitment. There are all sorts of emotions and feelings that are born out of it so make sure that you're ready to accept those if you go through with it." she explains. "The only other advice I can give you is just to be gentle. And try to keep the noise down. I'm sure that's the last thing Rick would want to wake up to."

Its a joke, but my face is on fire after she says it. She had to know it was already bad enough that I had to ask her for advice on the matter. It was even worse that she was making a joke about it.

"That's the other thing." I try to continue.

"Rick?"

"Yeah." I shake my head. "I hate sneaking around behind his back about all of this, but at the same time, I agree with Carl that he wouldn't exactly approve of our... arrangements."

She nods in agreement.

"Unfortunately, I can't give you much advice on that one." she says truthfully. "Try talking to Carl about it when you can. Ultimately, that's up to the two of you to decide. I'll keep covering for you though, as long as its still a secret."

I smile softly, "Thanks."

"Now, let's get going." she says, heading back towards the gasoline cans. "Its almost noon. We don't want to be late to meet up with Rick and Carl."

I agree and nod, and we're off...

####

They're late.

Very late.

I'm pacing furiously back and forth inside the safety behind the fences of the storage complex. They should've been back a little over an hour ago, but there was no sign of them. Michonne and I had arrived early and settled in to wait for them, but now that they hadn't shown, my anxiety was back in full force. Michonne herself is leaned up against one of the nearby storage buildings watching the fences for any sign of them.

"Relax, Tanner." she finally says. "I'm sure they're fine. Rick just sucks at keeping to his own schedule."

Any other time I would've laughed at that statement, because its true. Rick always expects people to be where he told them to be at a certain time, but he is rarely ever prompt himself. Still, he has Carl with him, and that is what is driving me up the walls. If anything happens to him, I absolutely will...

"There they are!" she exclaims, pointing just beyond the fence.

I pivot on my foot, spinning around faster than I ever have, to see where she's pointing. Sure enough, I can make out the faint outline of Carl's sheriff's hat as he and Rick approach from the distance. Sweet relief washes over me like a tidal wave and I almost react to impulse and begin to run towards Carl. Michonne places a hand on my shoulder and chuckles softly.

"Down, cowboy." she warns.

And I again curse the fact that we have to keep ourselves a secret. Rick and Carl take their sweet time getting to where we are, but they haven't returned empty handed. Rick had a full can of gasoline with him, bringing our grand total to five full cans, and Carl was carrying a few smaller bags with an assortment of food and other supplies.

"Good," Rick says, surveying our loot. "With all this, we won't need to make another run for awhile."

"Have you thought about where we should head?" Michonne chimes in.

"Carl and I found something." is his reply. "That's why it took us so long. A sign. Once we get all this loaded up, we'll head out there and I'll show you."

Michonne nods, "Well, I'll help you get this stuff in the van. Give the boys a break."

Rick agrees and after a few minutes of gathering up everything, the two of them round the corner and vanish in the direction of the van, leaving Carl and I pleasantly alone. Once he's sure they're gone, Carl steps up to me and wraps his arms around me lovingly; a gesture I quickly return. We'd only been separated for half the day, but it had been more than long enough.

"I missed you." I murmur squeezing him tighter for a moment.

He chuckles, "I was only gone a few hours."

"Exactly." I joke. "_Too_ long."

He laughs again, "Did you and Michonne have an enjoyable time?"

I briefly recall our swinging competition.

"Yeah," I smirk. "But she says you have to come with us next time. We need a witness."

He pulls back for moment, giving me a curious look.

This only makes my grin wider, "You'll see."

He simply shakes his head with a slight grin.

"So what did you and your dad find?" I ask.

"A sign made by some people." he replies. "Dad thinks its directions to some sort of refugee camp."

"That's great!" I exclaim. "Maybe we'll finally get some extra alone time then."

The jest has its intended effect, because now Carl is grinning like a madman.

"What will we do with all that extra time?" he asks, knowing already the answer.

I snort a chuckle. "We'll think of something, I'm sure." I shoot him a grin. "We always do."

####

A few moments later Rick and Michonne return and inform us they're ready to leave.

The drive is short, compared to walking. Rick drives us to the edge of the town where a set of train tracks are running through the nearby woods. He parks the car and we hop out, letting he and Carl lead us to a train car sitting on the tracks. Its there that I say the sign Carl was referring to. The sign is draped to the side of the train car and had written in marker the following:

**Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive, survive. Terminus.**

Attached to the sign is a map, showing all of the nearby railroad tracks, all leading towards one central location, indicated by a large red X. Judging from the map alone, I could tell that this wouldn't be a short journey by any means, but I started to see Rick's line of thought. If the people who made this were still alive, then there was a chance that it really would be a safe place where we wouldn't have to constantly be on the run.

"What do you think?" Michonne speaks up, turning to Rick.

Rick looks from her, to Carl, to me, and then back to the map.

"Let's go." he says nodding. "Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: So, even though some different events surround it, this little "filler" chapter connects the story back to the TV show: albeit briefly. I plan to stretch out their journey to accommodate for the plot. The next chapter will be an important one, so this one merely serves to set up for it, hence why its shorter than some of the others. I still hope you all enjoyed it! This was a pretty enjoyable chapter to write.**

**Now for reviews:**

**AnonymouslyYours: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy it. As it turns out, I don't usually enjoy OC stories either. I have only found one I really ever liked in the setting of The Walking Dead. That's actually part of the reason I wanted to do one with an OC. Its a challenge, but when you do it right, and your readers enjoy it, it can be very rewarding. So far, I've been updating pretty often. Usually by the time I post a chapter, I already have the outline for the next chapter drawn up, so there isn't usually a long wait between chapters. I hope you continue to enjoy the story! Thanks for your review :)**

**Youngblooded: Sorry I scared you! hahaha If it helps, I got the heeby-jeebies writing that scene. Tanner does seem to have a knack for sticking his neck out for others. And that ((Spoiler Alert)) will be addressed in an upcoming chapter. Now, I'll answer your questions:**

** 1. I would not be opposed to doing a request. I've never thought about it before, but depending on said request, and what it all entails, it could actually be pretty fun! One rule of thumb that I go by though, is that, when I do stories, I don't start another until one is finished, so if I do take requests it won't be until after this one is done. Which could be awhile. But still, if you have ideas, shoot them my way in a PM and we can talk them over. **

** 2. The plan is for them to eventually reunite with the others at the terminus, yes. I'm debating on how to handle that, because its probably going to differ from the TV series (not a bad thing), so I have to be careful how I approach it. But rest assured, the rest of the group will be becoming part of the story eventually, and Carl's reunion with Judith I'm planning on dedicating a significant chunk of time to. No spoilers though! ^.^**

** 3. I won't lie. Its crossed my mind. I suppose my best answer, at the current time is: I don't know. I'm on the fence as it is. I suppose you will have to wait and see! I know, I'm a terrible person, but half the fun of The Walking Dead is the suspense it creates and I like to recreate that as much as possible.**

**Thank you guys for reviewing! Keep the comments and reviews coming! I will begin work on the next chapter tonight, and have it up as soon as it is complete and at its best!**

**Enjoy this chapter and I'll see you guys at the next one!**

**Later.**


	10. We're Even

Evening had finally fallen on Georgia.

We had been following the railroad by car for most of the day, but Rick decided we would set up camp once the sun started to set. He had picked out a section of the woods that ran along next to a fairly calm looking river. Compared to the other places I had stayed since the world had more or less ended, it was actually a pretty scenic location. Carl had insisted that we all camp outside, rather than sleep in the van, which Rick relented to after Michonne voiced her own support to the idea. But camping outside meant that somebody had to go get firewood and since everyone else was busy unpacking the sleeping gear, I stepped up and volunteered to do it alone. I was beginning to resent how little alone time Carl and I were getting to have lately. I mean, in a way, I understood the necessity. Rick wanted to keep his son close to him, especially after what had happened the other night, and Carl had responsibilities of his own but... it just didn't seem fair. Perhaps I was being to whiny though.

Back in the good ol' days, before the living got knocked down a notch on the food chain, I used to enjoy walks in the woods. There was a patch of woods nearby my home in northern Texas that I would take a stroll in for hours everyday after school, or when I was feeling particularly under the weather. Of course, that had all changed after the outbreak. Mainly because I used particularly thick patches of forest as a form of natural shelter from the walkers. It didn't always work, but it was safer than hanging out in formerly populated areas, where the undead menace seemed to congregate.

I had ventured pretty far into the woods, picking up suitable lumber as I went.

Rick had specifically instructed me to get as much wood as I could carry. The last couple of nights had been fairly cold, even in the storage facility, and the van before that. I suspected that he was wanting to build a fairly large fire to compensate for this. So, I did as I was told. Dusk was falling quick, however, and with it came loss of visibility. I should probably take this moment to explain that I suck at directions, or, more to the point, paying attention to which direction I traveled. It had never been a problem before, because anywhere that didn't have walker was a reasonably good direction to head. Well, that, and after Atlanta, I had no group to return to, so no matter which way I went, I was still as alone as I was in the first place. That being said, you can imagine what happens next. Yes, I got lost. _Terribly_ lost. No matter which way I looked, everything looked the damn same. Originally I had been following a game trail, as I had learned to do from almost a year and a half of running around the Georgia countryside by my lonesome. But, at some point I made had the incredibly stupid thought that if I just kept walking straight, I'd be able to turn around and find my way right back to the trail.

And... that didn't work out so well. The woods were still. There was no noise other than the occasional gust of wind, and my own stomping around. Perhaps if I tried calling out, they would hear me. From my recollection, the woods weren't _too_ dense, so I convinced myself it wasn't possible that I had ventured too far from camp. So, I sat down my large pile of wood and did just that:

"CARL!" I bellowed, cupping my hands around my mouth to amplify the sound.

I waited.

No response.

"RICK!"

Still nothing.

"MICHONNE!"

Nope.

_Son of a bitch_.

I place my hands on my hips and survey the area. There were several landmarks I recognized. A rotting stump that I must've passed by at least twice by now. A particular arrangement of bushes. But, outside of that, nothing gives me the hint that will jog my memory into remembering the route I took coming in. By this point, the sun had completely set, and I could begin to see the faint traces of moonlight peeking through the leaves. The _last_ thing I want is to be lost, alone in the woods at night. Because though I hadn't seen any walkers, the undead had a way of sneaking up on you when you least expected them, and that was not a situation I wanted to be caught off guard by. Sighing to myself, after spending a few more minutes surveying the area, I once again take up my pile of lumber. I decide to just pick a direction and follow it.

Hopefully I pick the right one...

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

The moon is now completely up in the sky, in all its haunting splendor.

Tanner has been gone for a good hour, maybe a little longer, and I'm starting to get concerned. Its just firewood. How hard could it be to find a pile of sticks and come back? Its just not like him. Even Dad and Michonne are starting to notice his unusual absence. With the lack of sunlight, the woods are quickly cooling down. Before long, its cold enough that I need to retrieve a jacket we'd picked up on a prior run from the back of the van. When I return, Dad and Michonne are talking amongst themselves.

"We really need that wood." Dad is saying.

"Do you think he got turned around in there?" Michonne questions.

"Its possible. He'd have a hard time seeing in this lighting. The woods don't look too thick, but it could be pretty easy to get turned around under the right circumstances."

"Well, one of us should go find him." Michonne says. "Its getting cold out here and the woods become dangerous at night."

"Then I'm going to find him." I suddenly say, walking up to them, drawing both adults' attention.

"Carl, you can't be serious." Dad speaks up. "Alone? No. Michonne or I will go."

"I'll be fine." I snap. I must admit that I'm more than a little annoyed at the fact that they always feel I need to be sheltered. I've proven myself in a number of situations more serious than a quick run in the woods to find Tanner. "I'll just go in and get him and bring him back. I'm good at finding my own way."

"Carl-"

But I'm not letting Dad ruin this one, "Dad, its fine. We haven't seen a walker all day. Besides, knowing Tanner he just got lost daydreaming or something. I'll take my gun."

I expect Dad to argue with me further, or just flat out refuse to let me go. He had hardly let me out of his sight since the incident several nights ago. But Tanner's absence is just too unsettling for me to ignore, and I know the consequences of just sitting around and waiting for answers, so I intend to fight this one, even if it means Dad gets angry. He opens his mouth to say something, but is stopped by Michonne, who, to my surprise, suddenly reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be fine, Rick. If something was wrong, we'd have heard something. Just let him go." she suggests. "We have to finish setting up camp anyways."

Dad hesitates. He clearly doesn't like what she's said, but at the same time, he knows she's right.

"Fifteen minutes." he finally says. "If you don't find him by then, you come right back here and we'll find him together. Understand?"

I nod and snatch my gun from the spot where I had left it resting, strapping it to my leg, where it so often sat. I turned to leave, but was stopped by Dad's voice.

"I mean it, Carl." he warns. "Fifteen minutes."

"Got it." I snap, and then I march off into the woods.

The truth is, I don't intend to come back in fifteen minutes. Not unless I actually find Tanner. As soon as I'm out of their sight, I begin to break out into a run. Memories of the day Sophia vanished are suddenly flooding in. She had gone missing and we had spent days trying to find her. But when we found her, it was already too late. The walkers had gotten to her first. And I'll be damned if I allow the same thing to happen to Tanner. Its easy to see how he could've gotten lost in this. The woods were dark, and everything looked alike. But, being the adventurous soul I was, I knew how to ensure that I found my way back. I slipped a small pocket knife I had found back in town from my pocket, and began cutting large X's into certain trees as I passed them. Now it was only a matter of finding Tanner before someone, or _something_ found him first.

_Where are you, Tanner?_

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

By this point, I'm really starting to worry about my chances of getting out of here before daybreak.

And, oddly enough, I'm also starting to worry I'll look like a complete idiot when I _do_ get back to camp. But I quickly shove that thought aside. Survival comes first, always. I sat down my pile of lumber again and closed my eyes, desperately trying to remember the route I took coming from camp to where I was now. The path wasn't strait, as I had to continue dodging trees, but once I left the path my memory blanked. Everything looked to similar to make heads or tails of where I had gone. I had been gone for closing in on two hours now, so surely Rick and Michonne would come looking for me. I knew Carl wouldn't allow them to just ignore the fact that I hadn't come back after such a simple task. But the woods are still silent, no signs of movement or other inhabitants, so I was beginning to think that there was no chance of them finding me, even if they _did_ come looking. Finally, I decide to try calling out to them again. If there was some chance they might hear me, I didn't want to lose it.

"RICK!" I shout; hands again cupped around my mouth.

"MICHONNE!"

The fact that no one is responding gradually increases my panic level. I can feel my heart starting to pick up its pace, breath becoming more rapid and ragged.

"CAR-"

I never finish calling out to him.

A familiar snarl freezes my blood in my veins. Wheeling around, I am able to see the faint outline of a walker lumbering towards me in the distance. So, as it turns out, that was stupid decision number two. Shouting. Noise served only to draw the undead, and I knew where there was one, it would have friends. Drawing my wakizashi, I made quick work of the walking corpse, but, as I had suspected, the undead cavalry had arrived. A second walker emerged from a small clump of bushes to my right, a third from the trees on my left. I slowly began backing up as their numbers increased, until I could count a good fifteen. I knew there were more, though. I could hear their collective snarls and hisses rising up around me in the woods.

"Shit..." I cursed aloud.

Normally this wouldn't concern me a great deal. Yeah, it'd be a pain in the ass, but in broad daylight, walkers were pretty easy to clean up if you were careful. But in the dead of night, where even the light of the moon barely penetrated the tree tops, there was too great a risk. Nevertheless, I slashed out, catching a second walker just above its ear. The cut was deep enough to damage the brain, sending the beast to the ground. Another walker lunged from my right and I was able to bring my sword around just at the precise point to where I could thrust the tip of the blade into its mouth, stabbing directly through the back of its skull. Suddenly, my back hits the hard surface of a tree and I come to the horrifying realization that I'm cornered. It could be just my imagination, but the walkers seem galvanized by this, increasing their speed at what they now see as an easy meal. But I'm not about to go down that easily. Thinking on my feet, I quickly sheathe my weapon, spinning around and grabbing the lowest branch, using it as leverage to lift myself up higher. I climb as quickly and nimbly as possible, snatching branch after branch, until I can see the tops of the other trees.

Below me, I can see just how many walkers there actually are. A quick headcount reveals a good nineteen to twenty of them, not counting the three I had just killed. They're all hungrily snarling, reaching out to me in a failed attempt to climb to where I am.

For a moment, I allow myself to feel relief. But it doesn't last long. Even if I somehow manage to survive the night in this tree, the walkers will still be there in the morning. There's no escaping it; I'm trapped. And unless a miracle happens, this could be it. From this high in the tree, I could see just how far I had strayed from camp. Though I couldn't see exactly where the others were, I could see the river we were camped by, snaking its way through the countryside. It was much farther than I had originally thought.

Suddenly, there is a faint crack.

Its small, and over the noise of the walkers, you wouldn't think such a sound was significant... unless it was at your feet. Specifically, the branch you were resting on. I try to edge myself closer to another branch, which would allow me to safely transfer myself to a more sturdy surface, but the movement only intensifies the cracking. A cold chill goes up my spine as I realize the branch is about to snap, which would send me tumbling below, where I would no doubt be swarmed by herd of eternally hungry corpses. Still, I try to reach for my neighboring branch, hoping that luck will pay off and I'll be able to grab it. That luck finally runs out. With a loud _SNAP_, the branch gives way, and suddenly I feel gravity seizing hold of me and I'm airborne. The fall to the earth below seems to be in slow motion. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you come close to the end. I guess that's true. Several defining moments flashed through my mind as I toppled to the ground.

That fateful day my family dropped me off in Atlanta.

The day the world ended.

The regret I had for failing my group in Atlanta after the world collapsed around us.

The day I met Carl.

Dear, sweet, Carl...

_I'm sorry..._

I feel myself hit the ground. Hard. There is another, less noisy snap, and the sudden jolt of pain in my left arm tells me that it was my bone snapping after such a hard collision. My vision is blurry. And I can hear the hungry corpses closing in on me like some Satanic buffet had just been opened. The edges of my vision go dark.

_I'm so sorry Carl... Looks like this is it for me._

A loud noise shatters my hearing, causing my ears to ring, but it barely phases me. Because the world goes black, and I slip into unconsciousness...

####

Waking up was a particularly painful experience.

My eyes fluttered open, and, to be honest, I fully expected to find myself in the world beyond this one. So I was sort of surprised when my vision adjusted and Carl was looking over me. Well, that was almost heaven, so I wasn't _completely_ wrong. I see relief sweep across his face and he smiles at me. I glance over to the side and realize that, somehow, I'm back at camp. I can see the car in the distance and the river beyond that. Was I just dreaming? Was this all just some huge nightmare that I was meant to wake up from? I get my answer as I try to lift myself to a sitting position. My left arm suddenly, and without warning, explodes in pain. Almost enough to send me right back into the blackness of sleep. Carl catches me though and helps me ease into a sitting position. My left arm is wrapped pretty tightly and I look at Carl groggily for answers.

"Wha..." I suddenly feel lightheaded. "What happened?"

"You fell out of a tree and were almost walker food." Carl replies bluntly, but there is an edge of relief in his voice. As if he can talk about it comfortably now that he knows it hasn't actually happened.

"Oh, yeah." I say, the memories of earlier coming back slowly. I rub my eyes with my right hand. "I was getting fire wood and then got lost... Those walkers must've chased me into that tree."

"I went looking for you," Carl continues. "I heard the ruckus and found you right as you fell."

"How did you-?" I start to ask, but Carl merely waves his gun in the air as his answer.

"You killed them?" I ask incredulously. "_All_ of them?"

"Some of them." Carl admits, seeming almost embarrassed by that fact. "Dad and Michonne must've heard the shooting because they were there before I could finish off the entire pack."

"I suppose I owe you a 'thank you', then." I reply smiling as best I can at him. "For a second there, I really thought that was it."

"Nah," Carl completely serious. "You've saved my ass more than once. You're always sticking your neck out for me. I told you I'd return the favor someday. Now we're even."

I don't think he intended to sound sweet, and maybe he didn't, but when you've just come out of a clash with death itself, anything your boyfriend says to you sounds like heaven on earth. I lean in and lay a small, appreciative kiss on his cheek. In the moonlight, I can barely see him blush, but he smiles back at me nevertheless. I suddenly become aware that I hadn't checked the area to see if Rick or Michonne were still up. After all, I had no idea how much time had passed since I passed out until now. Carl seems to notice me frantically looking around and is quick to soothe my fears, laying his hand gently across my unhurt, right hand.

"They went to bed awhile ago." he gestures to the van. "Decided to sleep in there and told me to keep an eye on you."

I feel my heart beat dive bomb back to normal. That was a close call.

_You **really** need to pay more attention, Tanner._ I think to myself.

Convinced that its safe, I lace our fingers together and hold his hand tight. Its only the second time we've been alone since that brief moment in the storage facility and, despite the condition of my arm, it feels pretty nice. A thought suddenly hits me and I glance over at Carl, who is staring off into the moonlight, and consider it very carefully. Looking around once again briefly, I make absolutely sure there will be nothing that can interfere with what I'm about to do. Carl notices me doing this and gives me an inquisitive raised eyebrow, as if to ask what I was concerned about. Without warning him, I stand up, pulling him up with me through our locked hands, causing him to gasp in surprise. Clearly I had startled him. But I'm a man on a mission, and I don't allow that to slow me down. I start to walk towards a patch of trees on the edge of camp, Carl being helplessly dragged behind me until we're behind one of the trees, and for sure out of sight of the van. I take one more glance around and then use my good hand to push him up against the rough surface of the tree.

"Hey!" he finally barks in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Thanking you." I reply, a grin crossing my lips right before they brush against his.

I kiss him. Hard. I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not, but there is no greater turn on than your boyfriend saving your life. And there is no better opportunity than this to show him just how appreciative of him I am. I suck his lower lip into my mouth and gently nibble on it before returning to our regular kissing, twirling my tongue around his, his around mine, in an erotic dance I wish would never end. In the short time we've been kissing, Carl's skills at the act had increased tremendously. Each time we kissed he only continued to prove to me that fact, and even though he could still be sloppy at times, there was something so addicting to his technique, that if I could do nothing but kiss him all day, I'd do it until the day I died. I suddenly surprise him by doing something I've never done before. I break away from his lips and slide down to his neck, gently nipping, sucking and kissing a trail from just beneath his chin down to right above his collar bones. I can hear him gasping, feel his heart beat along his jugular, and feel the shiver running down his pale skin. The flavor of his skin is absolutely addicting: sweet with a hint of saltiness from the residual sweat that had been there earlier.

Finally, I stop long enough to catch him looking down at me. His pupils are fully blown, eyelids slightly lowered. He looks incredibly sexy like that, illuminated by the eerie glow of the moon behind him. But I'm not done giving out surprises yet. I abruptly palm the front of his jeans, causing him to jolt, his eyes snapping wide open. He seems to nearly yelp, but stops short of doing so. I can feel the outline of the hardness trapped underneath the denim, so I stroke it softly and he's looking at me incredulously. And then a look of realization hits him and his expression of alarm switches quickly to concern.

"B-but... Tanner, what about your arm?" he asks, his voice a tad shaky.

He's cute when he's nervous.

"I don't think I'll be needing my arm for this." I reply cryptically.

Its true. I don't plan to go - what's the term? "All the way"? - the first time. But I do have a pleasant surprise in store for him. He glances at me strangely, not quite understanding what I mean. Carl still has a very simplified view of sex, whereas I had made it to high school prior to the end, and knew a thing or two about _other_ methods of pleasing one's significant other. I carefully lower myself down to my knees, cautious not to graze my injured arm on anything that might be jutting out from the underbrush. He watches me very meticulously as I make short work of the button sewn into the front of his jeans and slide the zipper down as far as it will go. His belt is another story. With one hand, its sort of difficult to undo a belt, but nevertheless, with some trial and error, I manage to get it loose so that I can pull open the front of his pants, revealing a tight pair of white briefs, and a very visible hard lump right in the center. Even in this lighting I can see Carl turn almost purple in the face. Working so as not to loose my momentum, I slightly lift the bottom of his shirt, revealing the skin of his lower abdomen which trails down in a faint V-shape towards his lower areas. Planting my lips right beneath his belly button, I trail short, light kisses down his stomach until I touch the hem of his briefs.

Once again Carl shivers.

I look up at him before going any further, "Are you okay with this?" I ask.

Perhaps I should've asked that _before_ I started working on his jeans, but in the heat of the moment, you rarely think about such things. I certainly don't. Of course, I should've expected his answer, but I am always concerned about Carl's feelings on any range of matters, and so I thought it best to ask him; just to be sure it is really what _he_ wanted. He nods, slowly at first, and then quickly. Still, wanting to be absolutely sure, I ask one final time:

"Are you sure?"

He nods a second time, this time more readily, "Y-yes." he manages.

Satisfied, I return my attention to where it belongs. I slip the fingers of my right hand behind the elastic waistband of his briefs, and slide them down until they rest, along with his jeans, right above his knees. Returning my attention to his package, I see him for the first time. I must admit, by this point, my own heart is racing, threatening to leap into my throat. I'd _heard_ about these types of things in school, but I'd never done them before. Not once. Fear was present instantly: Would I do this right? What if I wasn't any good? Would he still like me if I sucked at this? I instantly shook that last thought from my mind. Carl had more than proven to me that he liked me for more reasons than just sexual attraction. And what's more, I love him. I wanted to show him that some other way than just telling him all the time. He _had_ just stuck his neck out for me, after all. And so, ignoring the fear in my gut, I lift my hand and take hold of him. His entire body quakes at the feeling of my hand around him. I sometimes forget that this is a first time for him too. At first I simply stroke him, slowly, gently, gauging his reactions. The expression on his face says it all, though. Ecstasy. Pure ecstasy. I watch his eyes roll up into the back of his head and his eyelids clamp shut. He draws his lower lip into his mouth and bites down on it in anticipation.

Well, if that's not the most erotic sight I've ever beheld, I'm not sure what is.

I give him a few more courtesy strokes before finally throwing caution to the wind and leaning in, closing my mouth around his length. Carl nearly comes right then and there. He's shuttering violently now, and what sounds like whimpers are escaping his mouth. He's too lost in the sensation of it all to watch me any longer. I wait for his mini-seizure to abate before going back to the task at hand. I'm gentle, careful not to hurt him with my teeth, and push as much of him into my mouth as possible. He reacts instantaneously, almost as if by instinct, his hands finding the back of my head and he takes a fistful of my hair, holding me in place. Its forceful, and it stings for a moment, but then he realizes what he's doing and loosens his grip. When I'm free to move again I dip down again, hollow my cheeks, and suck. Hard. This time he groans. Much louder than I expected, but not loud enough that I think Rick and Michonne will hear. Acting on instinct alone, I slowly begin to bob my head on him, repeating the same action I just had over and over, and before long, he's moving too, his own strokes matching the timing of my head bobbing. We move in sync like that for a good couple of minutes and then I get an idea. Inhaling deep with my nose, I take as much of him into my mouth as possible - until he hits my gag reflex - and then, without warning, I hum.

And Carl reaches his limit.

Once again, his fingers dig into my hair and push hard against the back of my skull, until my nose is literally buried in his soft skin. He gives an almost pained gasp and then a jet of saltiness hits my tongue. And then another. And then another. And another. By the time he finally releases me, the back of my throat, where his manhood had been embedded was quite sore, but it doesn't bother me. His come tastes salty, somewhat musky, but there is an underlying sweetness to it at the same time. Not near as bad as I had heard it tasted. I wipe the residual liquid from the corners of my mouth and take a moment to catch my breath. When I return my attention to him, he is finally staring at me again, his pupils are slowly going back to normal, and with them, so is his manhood. He looks absolutely spent. Like he could drop and sleep for two days straight. Instead he just stares at me, waiting to either say something himself, or let me say something. Using the pause, I glance around the trunk of the tree.

No sign of Rick nor Michonne.

_Sucess!_ I congratulate myself, smirking.

Finally tired of the silence, I decide to speak up.

"I hope that was a decent enough 'thank you.'" I say, smiling up at him.

He looks at me for a moment before smiling back, his cheeks are still flushed, which makes his smile look all the sweeter.

"What about you?" he asks.

To be completely honest, I hadn't thought about that. Like, at all. I had been so wrapped up in pleasuring Carl that I had completely ignored the hardness in my own pants. And while I must admit that I was excited at the prospect that he was willing to reciprocate, I decide to wait until another time. He helps me to my feet and I help him button himself back up, before drawing him into a loose hug.

"Some other time." I reply smiling gently. "Tonight was for you."

He hugs me back and then we come apart and start heading back to camp. I'm a little surprised that he grabs my hand as we walk. Being so close to the van, there was always a chance Rick would wake up and see, but I suppose he figures that if we didn't wake them up just now, this wouldn't hurt, and so I just enjoy the short walk; hand-in-hand.

"What do you think Terminus will be like?" he asks me as we slip back into our sleeping bags.

"With any luck? Decent food. I'd kill for a BigMac about now." I joke.

He chuckles at this.

"I think you're out of luck there." he retorts, grinning at me.

"Hey a man can dream, can't he?"

I plop back on the soft fabric of the bag, resting my good hand behind my back, while I carefully place my injured arm across my chest. Once again Carl surprises me as he scoots his bag closer to mine and cuddles up close. At first I think of saying something about Rick finding us like this, but I stop myself. Besides, Carl usually wakes up before him anyways. With that in mind, I turn over a little and cuddle up closer to him as well. A light breeze rolls over us and I can hear his breathing slow as he starts to slip off into dreamland.

"Love you, Tanner." he murmurs.

I smirk and close my eyes, "Love you too, Carl."

* * *

**A/N: So, uhh... I hope that was worth the wait . I took me literally four hours to get that scene to where I wanted it. But, considering I suck at writing smut, I think it was a decent start. There won't be many chapters with smut in them, but I feel that a little here and there won't hurt, so I hope this chapter was enjoyable. Back on the road to Terminus with the next one. So, review, comment, ask yo questions! I like to hear what you all have to say! ^.^**

**Now for review replies:**

**NOxONE2103: Thank you! Yeah, I will tell you that this has been a very unusual case for me. I've been writing fanfiction (mainly anime/manga) on other sites since 2008 and it usually takes me a good week or more to iron out chapters of this quality, but there is something about this story that I really, really love to write it. I'm trying to keep my pace steady and at regular intervals. Its turned out fairly nice. And yeah, I try to stay with the plot. I allow enough deviation for the plot of the fanfiction to be believable and enjoyable, but I try to tie it in back to the canon (either TV or comics) whenever possible. So far, I don't see my interest dying, and usually, if it isn't dead by now, it won't die anytime soon. Like I said in the first chapter, I've written a few other Walking Dead fics and ended up deleting them 3-4 chapters in because they just didn't come out right. This one, compared to those, is in a league of its own, so I'm pleased that I've finally found my nitch with this genre. I'm used to writing action scenes, so romance is definitely a new pursuit for me, and so far, I'm really loving it. I hope you continue to enjoy! Thanks for the review :)**

**Youngblooded: I'm glad you're invested :) That's what makes a story enjoyable to follow. I usually don't like OC stories either, but that's not because they're OC stories, but just because of the way they are written. I hope I continue to keep your interest and support with this story. Its only going to get better and more intense from this chapter forward and it won't be ending anytime soon :)**

**vmbaby: Thank you! I hope you continue to follow!**

**AnonymouslyYours: Oh, I do not mind the long reviews at all! hahaha I'm a long winded replier as it turns out, and your feedback means a lot to me, so make your reviews however long as you need. I really appreciate that. And I know what you mean. A lot of OC stories tend to focus too much on how desirable to the character is and that character doesn't have a lot of flaws or weaknesses. To make matters worse there are some that combine these traits in addition to making the canon characters act completely out of the ordinary. I try to stay true to their personalities as much as possible to keep it realistic. In the same way, I make Tanner seem as human as I possibly can, to remind people that he's just a normal teenager living in this world. I'm really glad you're captivated with this story. I hope I can continue to keep that charm as it goes forward :) And lastly, thank you for saying that. I do try to keep him ambiguous, in terms of appearance, where I can. Number one, I don't want him to turn into one of those "generic attractive guy" characters, so I let my readers imagine him as their mind creates him. Not only does it make them feel closer to him, but they can relate to him better that way. But at the same time, I have an idea of what he looks like when I write him, and that helps me get into his shoes when necessary and write him in a better manner. That being said, I Googled the actor you mentioned after I read this and I have to admit, he does kind of look like how I envision Tanner, so good pick! Thank you for your kind words and comments! I hope to hear from you in the future!**

**###**

**Wow, thanks guys. You'll never know how much your feedback and support means. Its very important to an author and writer. I hope to keep hearing from all of you! Don't be afraid to pop in and leave a comment and review! Until the next chapter! Later!**


	11. Coming of Age

My arm was definitely broken.

The following morning, as it turned out, it was me, rather than Carl, that woke up first. Pain was shooting through my broken left arm, forcing me out of my peaceful slumber, and into an upright position. I gritted my teeth tightly, trying to ride out the pain pulsating through my arm. It does subside into a light throb after several minutes and I'm able to breath easy again. Next to me, Carl is still snoozing peacefully, still curled up fairly close to where he was when we fell asleep. I couldn't help smiling to myself and considering my luck. Back before all of this had happened, I never imagined I'd wake up next to someone I loved. Deeply and honestly loved. Relationships were an afterthought. Something my mom would rant on and on about because she wanted grandchildren, but never anything I had actually been interested in. But meeting Carl had changed all of that. And now that I thought about it, Carl had changed me in more than just that way. Even during the early days of the outbreak, I was a cautious individual. I didn't trust anyone after Atlanta and I never allowed myself to do reckless things because I was sure they meant certain death. Tracing back the events of the past few weeks, the very day after I met Carl, things had started changing. I dashed into a pack of walkers to protect him; at the time a stranger; had allowed him to convince me to go outside, in the middle of a massive thunderstorm, _and_ with a large herd of walkers on the prowl, to help find Michonne, despite my instincts, and I had defied the odds at gunpoint to save him from being violently violated.

The old me would've never done any of this.

I think its what they call "coming out of your shell", only I never knew I was _in _a shell to begin with until Carl started pulling me out of it. Its funny that it took the world ending for me to discover the person who would _become_ my world. I shove all these warm and fuzzy thoughts aside as I'm drawn to the attention of the van opening. Rick steps out, yawning and stretching briefly, before turning his attention to us. Noticing that I'm awake, he makes his way over to me, kneeling down in front of me once he gets close enough.

"How's that arm today?" he asks, eyeing the arm they had bandaged after I blacked out the previous night.

"It hurts like a bitch." I reply bluntly, wincing as I remember the stinging in my arm from earlier.

He nods, "At the next town we'll stop and try to find you a sling. Try your best not to injure it again until then."

I nod and agree.

It was nice of Rick to show concern for my well being. Rick can be such a hardened and serious individual, its sometimes easy to forget that he is also a father and a very kind man. Rick stands up and briefly surveys the edge of the woods surrounding our camp. I notice how similar he and Carl both look when they become lost in thought. Carl truly does take after his dad when it comes to behavioral ticks. Then again, I had never met Lori, Carl's mother, so it was hard to compare and contrast the two.

"Do you think we'll make it to Terminus today?" I ask.

Rick shakes his head, "The map we saw puts it right around Macon, south of Atlanta. The city is overrun, so we'll have to take the long way around. It'll take us a little while longer to get there."

"Sorry, I'm still not well versed in Georgian locations." I reply. I hadn't recognized the name of the town Terminus was located in from the map, but Rick seemed to have.

"If there really is a safe zone in Macon, it'd make sense." Rick continues. "There's a National Guard station there and an Air Force base not too far outside of it. I'd put my money on the military running the place."

"Do you really think we'll be safe if we go there?"

Rick eyes me keenly for a moment and seems to be thinking of his answer. But I know whatever the answer he gives me, it will be the truth. That is another way Rick and Carl are alike. Neither of them are afraid to just flat out tell you what is on their mind. Whether you want to hear it or not is your own problem.

"I can't say for sure." he replies honestly. "But we have to give it a shot. We've run into several large packs of walkers already, which means the red zones are becoming larger. If we keep running around the countryside like this, we're only going to end up being trapped by one eventually."

I can't argue with that logic. The walkers _have_ seemed to be more dense in concentration lately, whenever we did find them. The herds were getting bigger and bigger as the days went by. Now I can see why Rick had been so quick to decide on Terminus as our destination. Though he never said it in so many words, he was frantic to get somewhere out of the way of the growing army of undead prowling the countryside. Still, I was cautious. Carl had emphasized early on in our relationship about how dangerous the Governor and his band of survivors had been. If there really were survivors in Macon, then that was only good if they turned out to be friendly. Though, I suppose it made no sense to advertise your safe-zone if you weren't welcoming all survivors. Michonne is the next one up, clambering out of the back of the van in a stiff manner, still not yet fully awake and alert. She greets us with a nod when she notices us before beginning her usual routine of morning stretches and exercises.

"Carl." Rick announces, shaking his still-sleeping son, who grumbles at the disturbance. "Get up, we gotta get moving."

Carl rolls over on his back and opens one eye, I suppose trying to find the source of the voice who awakened him. But Rick is already walking back off towards Michonne, so all he sees is me sitting near him, grinning at the rather hilarious expression on his face. Its unusual for him to be the last one to wake up in a group composed of myself and Michonne, who tend to want to stay asleep until we're absolutely forced to get up and go about our day. After yawning loudly and scratching the skin on his side, where his shirt was riding up, Carl gets up and helps me roll up my sleeping bag before doing the same for his own. Once we're finished packing up our things, we both approach Rick and Michonne, who are bent over the hood of the car examining a large map of the State of Georgia. At a glance, I notice two large red circles that almost touch towards the center of the map.

"Even if we take the long way around," Michonne is saying, her finger trailing up one of the lines indicating the interstate. "We still go straight through one of the red zones. If we're heading to Terminus, we're going to have to cross through one eventually. There's no avoiding it."

"Our best chance is here then," Rick indicates to a road that is squished between the two circles. "It goes right passed both red zones, but they don't intersect. We at least stand a better chance of slipping through there than we would just plowing straight through one of them."

"And if we _do_ have to fight?" Michonne countered. "We're running low on ammo and Tanner is down one arm. He won't be able to fight well with his swords like that."

I look down in disappointment.

_If only I hadn't gotten lost..._

Carl must've noticed this, because he sneaks his hand around and gently rubs the lower crook of my back. Its a sweet, comforting gesture, that is made even more impactful by the fact that he's trying to be sneaky and keep his dad from seeing him comforting me.

"There's a police station here," Rick pointed to a small town not far from where we were, though I couldn't see the name of it from where I was positioned. "With any luck we can pick up weapons and ammo there before hitting the red zone."

Michonne relented and nodded her agreement to the game plan.

"Let's load up then." Rick says, folding up the map and heading for his place in the driver's seat.

Michonne hoped into the passenger seat and Carl and I resumed our usual place in the back. If we were lucky, today would be another boring day of driving, with the single stop to gather supplies (and a sling, hopefully) and then back on to Macon. But we were never that lucky.

Luck doesn't exist in this world...

####

The drive was short and silent as usual.

I used the opportunity to take a brief nap if only for the temporary relief it granted the throbbing in my broken arm. Carl gently shook me awake when we arrived in the small town Rick had indicated to on the map this morning. Out of habit, I grabbed my swords as we were unloading. Michonne was right, with one arm I _could_ fight, but not as effectively as with two, but I felt naked without my blades, so I brought them anyways. Carl handed me the handgun we had retrieved from Dale's RV in addition to four bullets. Not much, but then again, we didn't have much ammo to go around as it was. As soon as everyone had their weapons, Rick assembled us outside the back of the van.

"We're staying together this time." Rick was saying. "As Michonne mentioned earlier, we don't exactly have ammunition to spare, so if we stick together, we won't have to waste as much of it."

Sound logic, I suppose.

I never argued with Rick's plans, though. I just listened and did what I was told. It created less complications that way. Besides, I was next to useless in the state I was in, so it was probably better for the group if I stayed close to them. Once again, Carl, ever the perceptive little bugger that he is, seems to notice that I'm still beating myself up over injuring myself in the way that I did, and tries to joke with me:

"Stay close, Tanner." he grins mischievously. "I'll protect you if anything happens."

Catching on to his joke, I shot him a matching grin, "Don't get cocky, Carl." I pretend to snarl. "I still have one arm and it can pull a trigger if needed. I may have to protect _you_."

I'm always amazed at how easily Carl can cheer me up. With his joke and playful competitiveness, he's managed to brighten my mood quite a bit. Rick just shakes his head at our nonchalance and Michonne flashes us a grin and then we're heading into town. It doesn't take long to notice the walkers lurking around. There are only a few of them and, at first, they don't seem to notice us. Rick quietly advises us not to use our guns on them. Sound would only draw more of them, and, so long as they didn't notice us, there was no need to use up our limited ammo supply. His first target is an abandoned Walgreen's. The glass that once composed its mechanically operated entrance was shattered, indicating that it had been raided at a previous time. Rick lead our four-man cell, crouching and sneaking through the broken glass. He swept the entrance of the store with his weapon, making sure it was clear, before waving us in one at a time. Carl came in behind me, helping me get through with my injured arm. Hopefully this would get easier once I had a proper sling. Michonne was the last in, hand behind her and grasping the hilt of her sword.

Once Rick accounted for everyone, we continued to move. I had been right, this drug store had definitely been raided. The shelves were toppled, empty bags and boxes littering the floors. There were still some items on their shelves, but they were few and far between. At the back of the store was a pharmacy which, surprisingly, was less looted than the rest of the store. Rick quickly located a sling hanging from a nearby rack and tossed it to Carl before disappearing with Michonne deeper into the pharmacy.

"Come here." Carl commanded, smiling at me. "I'll help you get this on."

I obliged rather happily.

Carl very gently lifted my injured arm, causing me to wince. The throbbing was made worse by the sudden movement, but Carl was careful, so the pain wasn't unbearable. Once he had it in the proper position, he had me keep it like that while he placed it in the sling and began working the strap around my shoulder, securing it in the back. After he was done, he stepped back, placing both hands on his hips and surveyed his work. I have to admit, he did a good job. I always thought being in a sling would be incredibly uncomfortable, but it was actually pretty relaxing. The pain in my arm had gone back to a slight throb, but was barely noticeable like this.

"That'll do." Carl finally said with a grin, proud of his work.

"Its great." I agree, smiling. "Thanks, Carl."

Glancing back to make sure the adults hadn't come back yet, I stepped forward and planted a brief kiss on his freckled cheek, before turning around and heading back towards the pharmacy. Rick emerged from the door shortly thereafter, Michonne in toe, and tossed me a bottle of pills, which I caught with my good hand. Inspecting the label on the bottle, I saw that it was a pain killer, which would help with the throbbing in my arm - especially if it ever got bad again. I thanked Rick for it as we began to walk back towards the exit.

"It was the only bottle they had." he informs me. "So use it sparingly."

I nod and we once again begin to crouch through entrance in the same order as before.

"Our next stop is the police station. Hopefully there will be some supplies left." Rick says once we're all out. "Everyone stay alert."

The police station was a much farther walk than the drug store had been. It was located in the downtown area of the settlement, which meant sneaking past several walkers, and maneuvering the littered and deserted streets of the town. Upon turning onto the street it was located on, Rick quickly snapped his hand up to bring us all to a stop. Not that we needed it. We had seen what he had seen. The station stood in the middle of the street, surrounded on all sides by large wooden barricades. There were several walkers hopeless trapped in the barricades, the large wooden spikes that composed them having been driven all the way through the undead creatures' abdomens, as if they had just casually walked in and impaled themselves on them. Michonne flashed Rick a concerned glance.

"Okay," Rick whispered, gesturing for us all to crouch around him in a circle. "Here's the plan. Michonne and I will go inside and check the place out. Get anything we need. You two," he indicated to Carl and myself. "Stay out here and watch the entrance."

"Dad," Carl suddenly protested. "We need to stick together."

"We don't know what's in there. If there are survivors, and they have guns, then they could be hostile." Rick argued. "You need to stay out here. Raise the alarm if you see anyone coming."

"If there are hostiles, then we can fight back. We're not little kids anymore, Dad."

I had to give Carl points for persistence. At nearly sixteen years old, despite the state of the world, he was going through the phase that all teenagers eventually did: wanting to be accepted as an adult by his father and the others around him. I sympathized with him because I too had gone through that phase. It had lead to more than one nasty confrontation with my own father.

"Carl, I need you to stay _here_..." Rick snapped, trying to do his best to keep his voice low. "Tanner can't fight that well as it is. Stay with him."

Well that was low. Not towards me, I didn't really disagree with him, but the fact that he was using my weakness to keep Carl in his place wasn't exactly the approach he should've used. My opinion, of course. Carl was visibly angry by this point, the red rising beneath the skin of his cheeks, accenting his freckles. He huffed angrily and drooped his head, relenting. Rick glanced once at me and then to Michonne before signaling her to follow him. She glanced back at us once before taking off after Rick. And, as I knew he would, as soon as Rick disappeared from sight, Carl wheeled around and furiously stormed off in the other direction. There were few things more frightening than a pissed off Carl Grimes. I'd honestly rather fight a herd of walkers with my broken arm than have to face his wrath. Nevertheless, his being upset is pulling on my heart strings, and I turn to follow him.

"God, I can't stand him sometimes!" Carl is practically yelling, keeping his voice just low enough to avoid raising any alarm.

I say nothing. Sometimes its better just to let Carl vent, lest you get caught in his crosshairs.

"He's treating us both like little kids!" he continues on. "Doesn't that bother you at all?"

Uh oh.

Now he has involved me, which means I can't do anything _but_ answer.

_This will be interesting..._, I think, sighing to myself.

"Sometimes," I admit truthfully. "But he has a point. I can't fight very well in this condition. I'd only slow you all down."

Carl huffs furiously, his back still to me. That is _not_ the answer he was looking for, but it was the truth, and I wasn't about to start lying to him now.

"I'm sorry, Carl." I say, trying to soothe him. "My broken arm is holding you back. You know I never intend to do that."

He sighs and turns to peek over his shoulder at me, eyes almost concealed by the low-hanging hem of his hat.

"I'm not mad at you." he finally says, softer this time than before. "I just wish he'd stop treating me like some damn child. I'm capable of helping out too. I always have."

Seeing a crack in his anger, I do what I do best, and dive straight for it. With Carl, his anger can last for a long time if you push the wrong buttons, but just the same, his anger can be broken if you know which cracks to push through. And I know my boyfriend pretty well at this point. Well enough to know how to calm him now, at least for the moment. Walking up behind him, I slip my good right arm around his waist and pull him close to me, allowing his back to rest against my chest. His muscles are tense and I can feel his heart beating hard in his chest. Clearly he was more upset than I had originally suspected, but upon detecting my touch, he loosens up a bit and leans his head back against my collarbone, his hat tipping awkwardly due to its positioning on his head.

"He knows that." I say, altering my voice so that its low and comforting. I gently squeeze him for emphasis. "Your dad is just trying to cling to the way things were... before. He doesn't want you to get hurt, anymore than I do."

Carl snorts an annoyed laugh, "Yeah, but you don't try to tell me what to do or tell me I can't do something you know I'm fully capable of doing." he argues.

"True enough." I know how to win this argument. "But I'm not your dad. I'm your boyfriend. I know the consequences of arguing with you."

At this he truly laughs and leans back further so that he can look straight up at me.

"And don't you forget it." he jokes back.

_Game set and match._

I was getting really good at finding ways to diffuse Carl's explosive temper. He'd probably kill me if I ever said this out loud, but his temper and Rick's are very similar in that regard. Though I never tried to lighten Rick's mood. That was one ship I'd never be sailing on. We go quiet for a moment and I rest my chin on the top of his hat. Its nice. Just having a moment to hold him. I kept occasionally looking back to make sure the cost was clear. We were out in the open, after all. Eventually another question bubbled forth and I just had to ask him.

"Hey, Carl."

"Hmm?" he answers, his eyes still shut. There was no telling what was going through his mind right now.

"How long are we going to keep this a secret?" I have been waiting to ask him this ever since my talk with Michonne the other day, but never got the opportunity before now.

"What do you mean?"

"You know. _Us_. I mean, Michonne knows sure, but it sure would be nice not to have to sneak around your dad all the time."

Carl goes quiet for a moment, as if thinking about what I said, but then he responds.

"Why does it matter?"

That struck me as an odd question, but then I suddenly remember that Carl likes to ask questions like that to test me. To make sure I know what I'm really asking for. Likely, he already knows what his answer is, but is trying to see what it matters so much to me.

"It doesn't _matter,_ I guess." I admit. "I mean, obviously we'll only do it when you're ready, but..."

Carl waits patiently. That wasn't the answer he was looking for, but he knew that it was coming.

"Just... I don't want to hide _you_ anymore. I want your dad to know how much I care about you. Would be nice to not have to hide kissing you either." I say that last sentence in jest, knowing it will hit his soft spot. I know which buttons to press on these issues.

"I don't think he'll be that accepting, Tanner." Carl replies, his tone denoting his seriousness. "Even in this screwed up world, I think he still holds on to the dream I'll find a girl and start a family."

He's right. Rick is a lot like my own father in that way. He'd have never condoned this relationship. Not that I would've given a rat's ass. I love Carl and there isn't a chance in Hell I'd let another person come between us. But though they had their differences, I knew Carl thought the world of Rick and only wanted his father to be proud of him. The dream of every son. Or at least most. It certainly wasn't mine. I'm glad he's at least talking to me about this, however. It told me he was at least willing to consider the possibility.

"I wish it were different." he finally confesses.

"It will be." I assure him with another gentle squeeze. "When you're ready."

Thus is the true burden of love. Its not one-sided or self-serving. And, if its true love, the well of patience to draw from can be nearly infinite. I'm happy to wait until Carl is ready to tell his dad, but it doesn't hurt to keep the thought fresh on his mind. Give him something to think about. Carl internalizes everything, so I know he won't forget it anytime soon. Suddenly, behind us I hear the scuffling of footsteps, and so I give Carl one last loving squeeze before releasing him. We both turn around just in time to see Rick and Michonne exit the building with a large black bag, likely filled with everything they set out to gather.

"Let's go." Rick waves us over. "There was evidence of someone being in there recently. We gotta move before they decide to come back."

There is no argument from either myself nor Carl and so we take off up the street towards our car, hoping to head once more for Terminus.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

I was still fuming at Dad.

Tanner had managed to ease my anger to a manageable degree - he's good at that - but seeing Dad again only reignited it. In this world, I was mature enough to kill both the living and the dead, and yet, he continued to insist on hiding first, acting later. It was infuriating. To make matters worse, the _one_ good thing going for me right now, my relationship, had to be kept a complete secret in order to ensure Dad didn't throw a complete fit. It wasn't fair. In my anger, I purposely avoided eye contact with Dad. Tanner noticed my still-agitated state and tried to comfort me with the occasional soft smile. I began to consider more in depth what he had said as we walked back to the van. What he had said was kind. He didn't want to tell Dad for selfish reasons, but rather so he could express himself to me more freely without worrying about hiding it. Moments like this, where he could only offer me a smile, rather than holding my hand, hugging me, or some other form of comforting affection I'd come to rely on him for in the few moments we _did_ have alone. I knew it wasn't fair to him, but I was genuinely worried about Dad's reaction.

What if he became mad enough to kick Tanner out of our group?

I'd never be able to forgive myself or Dad, for that matter, if that came about. It had never really dawned on me until last night, with the walkers, what I'd feel like if I ever lost Tanner. But now that fear was nearly omnipresent. I had been bothered by it almost constantly since then. So what did I do? Do I tell him and potentially face his wrath, or do I continue sneaking around him and praying I don't get caught? Which would've been a worse situation? All these questions were enough to make my head split open. In my struggle to keep my thoughts straight, I almost didn't hear the gunshot ring out. Dad, Michonne, and Tanner instinctively ducked behind the nearest objects to them, and I dove behind the toppled barricade Tanner had ducked behind.

In front of us, knelt behind an abandoned car, Dad was frantically looking around for the source of the shot. Michonne, however, caught sight of the source first, gesturing in front of us. Sure enough, coming out of a nearby alley was a small group of survivors, all heavily armed. I could barely make out Dad cursing to himself.

"Carl!" he whispered just loud enough for me to hear, despite the distance. "On my signal, you and Tanner make a run for it. Find a safe place to hide. We'll meet back at the van!"

Once again, he was trying to make me turn coward and run away.

I could feel the heat of my growing fury seep into my ears until they seemed to be hotter than the surface of the sun. Concealed behind his portion of the barricade, Tanner silently linked our hands and gave mine a squeeze. The look on his face told me he understood what I was feeling. At least he did. Another gunshot rang out, this time ricocheting off the top of the fallen sign Michonne was crouched behind.

"Come out!" one of the aggressors demanded. "Or we'll shoot you out!"

Dad looked back at me one final time, nodding silent to me, which indicated that I better get ready to run. Without warning, he leaped into a crouching position, aiming the barrel of his own gun towards the oncoming thugs, popping off a shot in their direction. I see the the bullet connect with one of their shoulders, sending that thug toppling over.

"GO!" Dad bellows.

Tanner releases my hand and suddenly both of us explode in movement as gunshots begin to ring out, seemingly from all over. One bullet grazes the ground at Tanner's feet. Another hits the grass on the other side of me, but before long, the fire concentrates on Dad and Michonne's positions, as they are the ones shooting back; therefore posing the most risk to the thugs. This gives Tanner time to select a seemingly safe alley and bolt into it, and I'm not far behind him.

"We have to do something!" I practically shout once we're safe from stray bullets.

The sound of a full out gunfight happening just a few yards behind us is deafening. I know there will be walkers swarming the town anytime now, with all the excess noise. Tanner just watches me, clearly seeing my own trepidation, but not knowing what to do himself nor how to respond.

"Tanner!" I plead. "They're outgunned and outnumbered. You and I _both_ know they'll be killed if they don't get out of there!"

He closes his eyes in thought, but only briefly, as they quickly snap back open. His azure eyes are completely different this time. They're suddenly brimming with determination and confidence. And was that a hint of defiance I was detecting?

Finally he sighs, "You really are going to be the death of me."

Its something I've heard one too many times from him, and always signifies that I've won.

"But we're not going out there and shooting blindly." he continues. "That's stupid and will get us killed. I'm not losing you. Period."

I nod and smile honestly.

"We need a game plan." he suggests. "And I have an idea."

The mischievous grin that suddenly spreads across his face is contagious. I'm all too eager to hear what he has to say:

"Let's hear it."

####

((**Rick's P.o.V.**))

I grit my teeth furiously.

Lately, it seems that survivors are becoming more dangerous and violent than even the damn walkers. Another shot whizzes over the top of the car I'm knelt behind, striking the ground a few feet away from me and bouncing off. Beside me, hidden behind a fallen sign, Michonne unloads another two shots from her handgun. We had managed to find both weapons and ammunition in the station, but they were useless to us if we got killed first. Glancing back over my shoulder briefly, I have lost complete sight of Carl and Tanner. That alone is an immense relief. If they had been shot, I'd surely see one of them, which means they both made it to a safe place. That meant I had only myself and Michonne to worry about, but things weren't looking good on that front. My ammunition was beginning to run low and I knew I didn't have the time to reload with our new supplies. Rising up quickly, decades of experience as a sheriff's deputy comes rushing back, and my aim is quick and precise. Two shots. One catches a thug in the eye. The other hits one square in the chest. Both fall, dead. Return fire peppers the side of my car-barricade.

_Surely they don't have much ammo left._I think to myself. They're just shooting blindly after all.

I rise up to launch another volley of shots, but my heart immediately drops when a familiar _click_ emanates from the gun.

Empty.

One of the surviving thugs pops off a shot, which luckily stops short of hitting me. Instead, it slams into the front windshield of the car, spraying glass shards everywhere. I dive for cover, but several flying shards manage to hit my cheeks and nose, causing blood to gush forth from my face. Just as I hit the ground behind the car, however, the truly devastating blow hits. One gun shot manages to hit a tire, resulting in a massive explosion of air, which catches me right in the side; where my still-recovering wound from the Governor is located. Indescribable pain shoots up from my abdomen, into my chest, then down my arms. The pain is so intense that it nearly renders me unconscious in that instant, and I'm completely immobilized by it.

"RICK!" Michonne screams in terror.

At that point I closed my eyes. Fully expecting the next volley of enemy fire to to do what all the others couldn't have, and end my life. The fear of death is now fully ruling my psyche. Not because I particularly fear death itself, but because of the thought that I will have left Carl completely alone; without any living blood relatives. With Lori and Judith gone, I'm all he has left. It shames me as both a man and a father that this will be how I die, leaving my son to fend for himself in this hell of a world. But the death blow never comes. Strange. I can still hear gunshots. But oddly enough, they're not landing near me, or pelting into my makeshift barricade for that matter. I glance over at Michonne. Her face says it all. She's watching something unfold beyond our shelter with a rather bewildered expression.

I suddenly realize that gunshots are now coming from another direction.

Not towards us, but towards the enemy, off to their side. Had another group of survivors found us and intervened to help? Pain cripples me and prevents me from rising up far enough to see our saviors. But, as if on cue, Michonne utters all I need to hear as the last of the gunshots stop, and the town goes eerily quiet:

A grin spreads across her face.

"Rick, you are _not_ going to believe this."

I still cannot move to see what she's talking about. But, as it turns out, I'll never have to. Two sets of boots are now approaching me, stopping just inches from my head. And that's when I realize I recognize both pairs of shoes. Straining against the pain to see upward, I'm more shocked than I should be to see the faces standing above, illuminated by the intense afternoon sunlight.

Carl and Tanner, both sporting grins of their own, each holding a handgun.

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

It was almost a comic book-style entry, if I do say so myself.

The look of absolute shock in Rick's face was priceless. It made me almost wish I had a functioning camera to record it with. It hadn't been hard to accomplish this. Carl and I had circled around the block, using the alleys for cover, until we came out behind the group of thugs shooting at Michonne and Rick. They were too wrapped up in shooting, they never even noticed us. We had taken cover behind some dumpsters from that point and then immediately began unloading at their backs. They dropped like flies, and even after they turned around and began returning fire, the shock had already done its job. None of them were able to get their act together, making their shots sloppy and poorly aimed. Carl and I easily picked off what remained of them from there. Michonne was at our side in an instant.

"I have to give you boys points for creativity." she says. "And, I believe I owe you a thank you."

We both merely grin at her, basking in her praise. Carl and Michonne both kneel down and take one of Rick's arms each, slowly helping him to his feet. The concussion from the tire exploding was doing its damage. It had re-injured the wound that had taken so long for Rick to recover from, which I imagined was insanely painful.

"Let's get him back to the car." Michonne suggested. "I'll drive. We have to get out of here before the walkers swarm."

I agreed with her and quickly retrieved the bag of supplies they had dropped with my free arm and then began to follow them back to the car. The going was slow, as Rick was barely able to offer his own support, due to his condition, but after about ten minutes, we finally made it back to our vehicle. I loaded the weapon's bag in the back, while Carl and Michonne loaded the injured Rick into the passenger's seat. He thanked them weakly once he was secured and Michonne quickly ran around the other side, hoping in the driver's seat. I followed briskly behind, joining Carl in our usual spot in the back. Michonne wasted no time punching the gas and within moments, the city limits were in our rear view mirror.

Things are quiet for several minutes as Michonne exists onto the interstate, putting us back on track to our original goal. I expected another silent drive until it was time to stop for the night, but Rick quickly squandered any thoughts I had of that, as he spoke up, albeit in a pained fashion.

"Carl," he gasps weakly.

Carl perked up upon hearing his Dad call out to him, but said nothing, merely waiting for him to continue.

"Thank you." he finally says. "You and Tanner both."

Carl is prepared with his response, "Of course, Dad. Have a little more faith in us next time. We _can_help out."

The victory in Carl's eyes is mesmerizing. This is pretty much the ultimate equivalent to an "I told you so" I've ever seen and it clearly has its intended effect, stunning Rick to silence. But, to my surprise, Rick actually responds again after a few moments.

"You're right." he admits, and the sudden look of shock on Carl's face is cute and priceless at the same time. "I'm sorry, Carl. You... You're a man now. You both are. I suppose... I suppose it was just hard for me to see that."

Pride swells in my chest at the compliment, and I can see it has the exact same effect on Carl, who is smiling ear-to-ear. He says nothing in response, but his demeanor says it all. Expecting this to be the end of the exchanges for the ride, I settle back into my seat, a large grin on my own face, and close my eyes to nap for awhile. But Carl's voice suddenly draws my from my impending nap:

"Dad?"

Rick's response takes a moment. Its clear that the pain is starting to become more bearable for him, though his breathing is still heavy.

"What is it, son?"

"There's... there's something I need to talk to you about."

Curious, I open my eyes and glance over at Carl inquisitively. He doesn't look at me. In fact, he doesn't look at anyone, his eyes focused solely on his feet.

"What might that be?"

Realization hits me like an avalanche.

_Is he...?!_

"There's something about me and Tanner I have to tell you."

And my breath catches...

* * *

**A/N:**** So, I like cliffhangers. I hope you do too, because this is one hahaha xD **

**Now then, time to answer the reviews from last chapter:**

**Youngblooded: Yes, I have popped out quite a few chapters haven't I? I hope I keep up with this momentum. But, I suppose when you're having fun writing a story, its hard to stop! Lol Believe me, I have a hard time making myself stop when a chapter should end to go on to the next one. This story is addicting to write. They do make quite a team, don't they? I really like how their relationship is developing. Makes this even MORE fun to right ^.^ Thank you for the review!**

**AnonymouslyYours: Oh my goodness, I love the massiveness of your reviews. Please do keep them up. They are fun to read! I'm glad to hear you're a loyal reader. I'm the same way. Once I'm invested in something, I'm stuck to it until the end, and, in some cases, even after the end. That's the mark of a good story, and I hope I only continue to provide better and better content for your reading pleasure :) You're absolutely right about how Carl and Tanner met. That's actually why Carl is hostile towards Tanner in the first chapter or two. Tanner saving his life practically forced him to see him as friendly, rather than a threat, and from there it blossomed into trust and friendship. Carl is a really fun character to work with because he is so complex, going through his teenaged angst phase. He's been a challenge, at times, but I welcome challenges. Especially when it comes to writing. I'm glad you think I'm realistic and stick to his (and the other's personalities). I find that it makes the story more compelling and easier to care about when the characters you see on TV remain the same in a fanfic. Plus, I genuinely love the way the actors portray their characters, and so I try to stay as close to that as possible. I'm sorry that I mess with your emotions! xD hahaha I actually love that you point this out, because that actually is a specific goal I go for. One of the things that makes The Walking Dead... well... the Walking Dead, is that you get so emotionally invested in the characters and the show takes you on an emotional rollercoaster. So, whenever I'm planning a big walker/fight scene, I always try to replicate that feeling. Making you feel the characters are really in deep shit now before taking you on another twist. I can't wait until the other cast members start rearing their heads in this story, because that will allow for a greater variety of such scenes. And yes, I take the sex very slow. I want it to be natural. 'Tis one of the reasons I scarcely have Carl mention Tanner's physical appearance. In most fanfics OC or otherwise, there is the initial curiosity, and then BAM endless chapters of sex galore. And sex rarely, if ever, happens that way. But the main reason I take it slow is because I want to emphasize the love in Tanner and Carl's relationship (which can then be emphasized with sex every now and then) over the blatant physical side of their relationship. I feel it gives more depth to their friendship and more meaning to their time together. Anyways, thanks again for the long-winded review! Keep 'em coming!**

**Thanks again everyone! I've said it a million times, and I'll keep saying it: don't be afraid to speak up! I love hearing from all my readers!**

**Until the next one! Later!**


	12. Telling Rick

"There is something about Tanner and I have to tell you."

I froze.

Carl was looking at the floor of the car, rather than at myself, Rick, or Michonne. Michonne glanced at me, her expression as shocked and nervous as my own. Being the only one who knew about our secret, she had probably guessed what was about to happen. Rick saw Carl's demeanor from the rear view mirror and I can see apprehension come across his face. My gaze went from Rick back to Michonne and then to Carl. It was only silent for about three seconds: the longest three seconds of my entire life. I knew exactly what Carl was going to say, but it surprised me that he was even considering it. Not too long ago, he was still expressing his extreme concern to Rick's reaction, so I had thought it would be quite awhile before he actually brought it up.

_What could've changed since then?_

Apprehension was killing me, but finally Rick's voice broke the silence.

"What is it, Carl?"

I held my breath. I saw Carl close his eyes to carefully consider his answer. And then, he spoke:

"I thought I had everything I was going to say thought out, but this is much harder to say than I thought." he said at first, mostly to himself, rather than to Rick.

"Carl," I suddenly interject.

He stops mid-thought and glances up at me. His eyes are filled with uncertainty. I knew that would be the case, hence my interruption. Carl was making a sweet gesture, trying to be strong and tell his dad about us, but I didn't want him to do so if he felt _that _uncomfortable.

"Are you sure?"

He studies me for a moment.

I become aware of the fact that Rick has stopped the car, and is now watching our exchange like a hawk, which only intensifies my anxiety. He is very keen that something is going on and I realize that even if Carl isn't prepared, he's already set the wheel in motion. Rick won't start the car up again until he discovers what is bothering his son. Carl finally nods, albeit slowly, answering my question. I inhale largely and lean back. My gaze fixates on Michonne who looks like a deer in headlights. I hear Carl start to speak, close my eyes and brace for impact.

"Tanner and I..." he begins, summoning Rick's attention to himself completely. "...are together."

There is another pause.

A painfully long pause.

By this point, all of us are solely focused on Carl. Rick hasn't even looked at me yet, though I dread the moment when he finally does.

"Together?" Rick asks.

Its difficult for me to gauge Rick's mindset just by hearing his response. His face is stone, betraying only the concern he has for his son. I knew Rick was an intelligent man. And any intelligent individual knows there is only one true interpretation of that phrase. But Rick, like Carl, likes to have full understanding of a situation before he makes a decision on how to react to it. And this case is no different.

"Rick-" Michonne interrupts, before being stopped when Rick raises his finger to silence her. His gaze never leaves Carl, who is still looking at his feet, rather than his father. What Michonne was trying to accomplish, I'll never know, because before anything more can be said, Carl is speaking again and I can feel my heart beating into my throat.

"Together, Dad." Carl repeats. "Like..."

Carl's eyes glaze over as he searches for the correct term to use for clarity. I had expected him to just finally say the word: "boyfriends". But, if there is anything I should expect by now, its to expect the unexpected when it comes to Carl Grimes. He's clearly thought about this in more depth than I had originally given him credit, because his answer doesn't just stun Rick, but manages to make every bit of exposed skin on my body turn completely red. In a good way, of course.

"Like... you and Mom."

In a way, it was probably good that Rick had stopped driving. Had he not, that one statement from Carl alone would've caused him to crash the van. Even Michonne looked like she hadn't expected _that_ for an answer. My reaction was mixed. Every single emotion I could possibly generate was being experienced all at the same time. In a way, I was love struck that Carl would compare our relationship to his _married_ (or formally married) parents. On the other hand, the ball was now in Rick's court and his expression wasn't telling me anything about what was going through his head. And yet, at the exact same time, it was almost a turn on that Carl was sticking his neck out and taking such a big risk for my sake. If we got out of this one unscathed, I would definitely owe him. Big time.

"But Carl," Rick finally finds his voice. "Your mom and I were-"

"In love." Carl cuts him off. I have half a mind to believe Rick was intending to say "married", but Carl's response does justice either way.

Rick goes completely still, returning to his original position, sitting forward in the driver's seat; clearly in deep thought.

In the intermission, Carl glances at me, looking for support. His eyes are still uncertain, almost as if to ask me if he did the right thing. I suddenly realize that it doesn't matter anymore. He's said it and Rick knows. So, even though the anxiety growing in me is churning my stomach like a boiling pot of stew, I reach across to him and gently take hold of his hand, which is sitting limply in his lap. I try to manage a smile to help reassure him, but with my growing nervousness at Rick's impending reaction, all I can manage is a weak one. Without warning, the car engine roars to life again, and Rick is driving. I can see Michonne watching Rick carefully. Clearly she's trying to figure out what he'll do next as well, but she says nothing. Several minutes pass and still Rick has said nothing. There is tension hanging in the car like a dense mist, but I keep my hand latched to Carl's the entire time. I can feel his increased pulse in his hand, which is damp with sweat. Only now am I beginning to fully comprehend how nervous this had made him.

I knew Carl.

As much as he complained about Rick, he loved him and cherished his opinion more than any human being on the planet. Rick's approval meant more to him than any material possession and any amount of riches. And I knew that, as much as I was also worried about Rick's response, Carl's anxiety was probably ten times worse. As far as I knew, I was Carl's first serious relationship. I knew that if Rick were to disapprove of that, it would shatter Carl, especially with all the angst that has been building between them lately over Rick's treatment of Carl, which seemed to finally have resolved itself minutes ago until Carl had spoken up about this.

"Tanner."

When Rick finally says my name, after what must've been twenty minutes of completely tensions silence, my heart leaps into my throat and my pulse rapidly increases. Next to me, Carl feels the sudden shift in my demeanor and squeezes my hand softly for support.

"Is what Carl said true?"

I don't know why Rick would care what I thought about the matter. He was Carl's father, not mine, so it would seem to me he'd be more concerned about what Carl thought than what I did. Nevertheless, I realize that I've reached a crossroad. I finally had the chance I'd been looking for. To tell Rick how I really felt about Carl. I had told Carl earlier this very afternoon that I no longer wished to hide him or anything about our relationship, so now, at last the chance to prove myself had surfaced. And I was seizing it.

"It is." I reply calmly, aware that Carl is watching me as intently as Rick is listening. "Do you remember back on the roadside... after those thugs attacked us? I told you your son was the only good thing I had left to cling to in this world. My family is long gone. And so are the people who looked after me after the world went to shit. Before Carl I had nobody. Now he's all I have left."

I pause for a moment, letting my words sink in, before adding:

"I love him."

Carl is beaming from his seat. I don't think he ever thought for a second that I would bail on him and not tell the truth. Glancing over, Michonne is looking back at us, and offers me a wink and a soft smile. And I suddenly became aware of just how grateful for _her_ was, as well. She had harbored our secret, given me advice, and been the friend I needed _when_ I needed it. Rick is again silent. But this time, its only for a few brief moments.

"You're partially right." he says. "But you don't just have him, you know?"

Rick glances at me from the rear view mirror.

"You have us as well. I don't know if I'd call that family but we're a..."

"A pack." Michonne offers. "We look out for our own."

And with those words, from both of them, and the slight squeeze of my hand from my boyfriend, the fear and anxiety that had ruled me the entire time I'd known them, was gone. Though I had begun to suspect it awhile ago, they'd finally said it. They had accepted me into their "pack". It really spoke volumes to the trust I had gained. Carl had told me about their group before the prison. How close-knit and protective they had all been towards one another. To know that I was now officially apart of that brought a sense of security and peace that I hadn't known since before the apocalypse. I know right then and there, without having to have said it outright, Rick had not only accepted me, but accepted us. Carl and I. And that is what made me happiest of all.

"But you've accepted a pretty big responsibility." Rick suddenly continues. "I'm holding you responsible for taking care of my boy."

I feel Carl's skin heat up suddenly and glancing at him confirms what I suspected. He was blushing pretty intensely, looking away and out the window to avoid further embarrassment.

"Daaaad..." he groans.

I hear Michonne chuckling in her spot in the passenger seat. And the continued relief spreading over me causes me to laugh myself. Carl groans again, mortified.

"You've got it, Rick." I reply, trying to sound confident.

We continue the rest of the drive as we always do: in silence. But the silence has an entirely new feel to it. Its warm. Happy. Completely unlike the stale silence that had permeated the van before. Eventually, I leaned back and closed my eyes, intending to take the nap I had originally attempted when we'd started the drive nearly an hour ago. And sleep I did. But as pleasant as that was, the most pleasant surprise of the trip was that Carl and I held each other's hand the entire time...

####

Nearly two hours later, we finally settled in for the night.

Rick had located an abandoned farm house for us to take refuge in and though the place reeked of mold and decay, it offered a shelter from the creepers that would be roaming through soon enough. Overall, we had made good progress. Rick had surmised that at the distance we had traveled today alone, we would probably reach Terminus within the next day or two. That news alone was music to my ears. I was tired of always moving around. I was ready to settle, in one place and rest not have to worry about moving again.

In this world, that amounted to a pipe dream, but I never gave up hope that this place would turn out to be the sanctuary we always hoped for.

I helped Rick, Michonne, and Carl unload the car as best I could with one arm. I had to admit, my broken arm wasn't hurting nearly as bad as it had this morning when I had woken up, so I took this as a sign that it might end up recovering fully after all, though fully recovery was still a long ways off. The best part of the house Rick had selected to hole up in for the night was that it had several very large bedrooms, which meant, for the first time since the neighborhood where I met Carl, we could sleep in beds rather than on our sleeping bags on a hard surface. Michonne and Rick picked separate bedrooms in the smaller areas downstairs, while Carl and I chose a larger bedroom on the top floor. It must've been the master bedroom, because the room itself was rather large. Carl had noted that it reminded him a lot of the bedroom he had recovered in after being shot by Otis back on Hershel's farm.

But the good news kept coming. After inspecting the pipes, Rick discovered that this farm house still had access to running water, and, while it may be cold water, it at least meant we'd be able to take showers tonight. I'm not going to lie. It had been a_ges_ since I had taken my last real shower. Oh sure, I had bathed several times since the outbreak, but usually only rudimentary cleanings in a creek or at the edge of a river I was traveling around at the time. Needless to say, I took my time to enjoy the full perks of having running water on me again. As I let the water wash over me, my mind flashed back to earlier today, in the car. Carl had been really brave and thoughtful to do what he did. Just thinking about it made my chest warm up, despite the frigid temperatures of the water itself. Eventually, my thoughts begin to wander to other things. I decide to thoroughly clean myself, because I'm about to make tonight a special occasion. Carl and I finally had a room to ourselves, a very slim chance of interruptions, and, best of all, something to celebrate. I was not going to let this opportunity slip by. My injured arm _might_ pose a problem, but I decided to cross that bridge when I reached it.

Shutting off the water, I dry off as quickly as I can with my good arm, dress myself in a fresh set of clothing, and head back to our bedroom.

Carl isn't there when I arrive, likely off talking to Rick or Michonne before bed, and so I use the opportunity to make the bed and turn both of our sides down. Regardless of what happens tonight, I'm still extremely pleased that he and I will finally be sharing a real bed. I had no sooner sat down on the edge of the bed, than Carl opens the door and steps inside. He had already taken his hat off, having laid it on a chair across the room, sometime during my shower, and was wearing a simple T-shirt and his usual jeans. He smiles at me as he enters and slips out of his shoes before crossing the room towards me. I open my arms and spread my legs from where I am on the side of the bed, allowing him to stand directly in front of me, and welcome him into my embrace. Wordlessly, we hug each other long and hard before finally releasing.

"Carl, that was really brave of you today." I say, still holding his hips, looking up at him from my sitting position.

"I realized you were right." he admits, sighing to himself. "We _shouldn't_ have to hide. And when Dad said we were men, I knew I had to tell him. Because a man wouldn't hide the person he loves."

I nearly chuckle at this.

Carl always chides me for how philosophical I can be sometimes. He's always said it reminds him of Hershel and Dale, who were both, apparently, the same way when it came to approaching issues. And yet, in the irony of the situation, Carl had decided to get all philosophical and romantic on me all of a sudden. An unusual twist, but one I certainly wouldn't complain about. Moments like these, even now, would be rare so I cherished the ones we had.

"No, he certainly wouldn't." I finally answer, agreeing with him.

Deciding there was no better time than now, I slide my hands up his back until I feel the base of his hair. Gripping the back of his head, I slowly lower him down, inviting him into a kiss. His lips on mine send electrical impulses down my spine, much like our first kiss did, which seems so distant now, even though it hasn't even been a full month yet. Our relationship had developed and strengthened quickly, but in this world, everything was forced to evolve quicker. Children grew up faster and love solidified faster. That was the only way such things managed to survive this hostile environment any longer. Before long, we're trading tongue: first by drawing the other's into one of our mouths and then by sucking on it gently. A twirl here and there. He even surprises me by mimicking what I usually do, pulling my lower lip into his mouth before gently sucking on it, nibbling on it, and then releasing. After a few long minutes of this, we finally come apart, both of our lips swollen.

I immediately become aware of a new sensation rising up in my chest.

Just sitting here, holding him firmly in front of me, his hips in my hands, and watching him, I realize just how much I want him.

_Need_ him.

Its completely unlike the sensation I felt the previous night, which I mainly did out of gratitude for the kind deed he had done in saving my ass from that pack of walkers. No. This was **completely** different. It transcended mere sexual desire and leaned more towards the fact that, right now, right here, somehow, I wanted to _show him_; physically show him; just how important he was to me. How grateful I was that he was there and that, because of him, I didn't have to be alone anymore. For the longest time, we glare into each other's eyes, both probably thinking the same about the other. But I'm not in the mood for waiting any longer. I had promised Carl that once we had gotten privacy, I would grant his wish to make love, and it looked like this would be that moment. And somehow, I think he catches on to what I'm thinking, because he doesn't resist me as I pull him down on top of me, now laying down completely on the bed, save for my feet, which are still on the floor. He's leaned over me, hands on either side of my head, and we're kissing again. This time more aggressively than before. My good hand is still on the back of his head, and I'm running my fingers through that delightful thick hair of his.

There is just enough space between us for me to reach up and unsnap his belt, which is surprisingly much easier than it was the night before. Once again, he starts to mimic my own actions, removing his lips from mine and trailing small kisses, nips, and licks down my neck until he stops at the center of my throat and tries something new: sucking. _Hard_. Now its my turn to gasp, because him sucking on my throat is driving me wild. I can feel his lips curl into a grin, clearly pleased with himself at the reaction he induced. I try to focus on getting the button of his jeans undone, but his efforts are making that incredibly difficult to focus on. Finally, he moves lower, working right above my collar bone and I'm able to snap his button free. As if a sudden revelation has hit him, he suddenly releases me and looks up at me with concerned eyes.

"What is it?" I ask him, bringing my hand back up to stroke his hair out of his gorgeous eyes.

"Yo-you never told me how to do this."

I resist the urge to laugh. I had almost completely forgotten, in the days its been since we talked about this at Hershel's farm, that he knew nothing about the way two guys copulate. Well, besides what I had shown him the night before, that is. I force myself into a sitting position, using my good arm, and then curl my fingers around the bottom hem of his T-shirt, which is clinging very tightly to his body, revealing his pronounced collarbone and the outline of his tight stomach. I plant another gentle kiss on his lips. A simple press and release.

"Go with your instincts." I whisper softly to him. "I'll help you where its needed."

That's all the green light Carl needs to set to work.

Once gain mimicking my actions from last night, Carl lifts up the bottom of my shirt, exposing my lower abdomen, but careful not to accidentally graze my injured arm. Trailing kisses down my stomach, he sets off a chain reaction of powerful shivers that electrify my entire nervous system, only serving to intensify the desire I had for him. Finally, I feel his fingers curl over the top of my cargo pants, and he make short work of the button. A sudden breeze of cold air sweeps into my more intimate areas as he drags my pants down, leaving me in only a pair of green boxers. I'm almost embarrassed at the state I'm in at that point. Hard as steel, and its on display for only him to see.

I liked that thought.

Only he had seen me like this. I was for him and only him.

_Only for you, Carl._

Frigid air nips my bare skin as he pulls the remaining coverings from my groin, freeing the trapped member that had been straining against the fabric. I have much the same reaction he first had, because when he takes hold of me for the first time, my entire lower half spasms with intense pleasure. The heat. The marvelous _heat_ coming from his hand is exquisite, sending several more electrical impulses up my spine. My eyes roll back and I close them, letting out a sharp gasp as he gives me a few courtesy strokes, just as I'd done to him the night before. But I'm simply not prepared for what comes next. As I've mentioned many times before this, Carl is the only one I've ever even thought of having sex with, much less having actually done so. And despite the fact that I _knew_ more than him when it came to these matters, it was a completely different feeling to _experience _them. Because when I feel the heat of his mouth close around my length, it takes everything within me not to exit my body and fly off into eternal bliss. Its wet and warm, and he's doing this _thing_ with his tongue. Something I'd never considered trying with him. Before I even realize it, my hips are bucking along with the rhythm of the bobs of his head.

It doesn't take me long at all. Certainly not the same length of time it had taken him. Because the second he hollows his cheeks and sucks on me, my control and free will are gone, and I shake violently, barely managing to whimper a warning to him as my orgasm rolls through me, and he's treated to a mouthful of come. As is to be expected from his first time, he sputters, letting a few streaks run down the side of his mouth. He spits out some of it, the excess I'm guessing, but, like me, tries to swallow whatever is left. After several moments, he stands, and I am panting hard, trying to regain my breath. Carl leans in once more and plants a kiss on my lips. I can taste the remnant of my come on his breath, which, while not exactly tasting the best, is incredibly erotic in its own way. Finally recovering to coherence, I notice the growing bulge in his own pants, and know I have to take care of it. I decide to teach Carl a new trick. Since he wanted to "make love", I was fully intent on teaching him how to. Shoving down his pants and briefs, I have him in a similar state as me in a short few seconds.

"I want you to make love to me." I finally say to him.

Its the first time I've ever said anything of the sort. But, having been something he wanted all along, I notice his face brighten up as I say the words.

"Tell me how."

"Well, like I said, its not _that_ different from the sex you were taught about." I explain to him. "But you have to loosen me up a bit, otherwise it can be painful. Just use your fingers. You'll know what to do from there."

It was kind of awkward, I'll admit, to give him a quick "Sex for Guys 101" lesson right in the middle of what we were doing, but I needed this. _Badly._ Needed him more than anything else. And I was getting him tonight. He hesitated at first, not sure of himself. But, slowly, Carl pressed his index finger directly to where it needed to go. I leaned back on the bed, spreading my legs to give him a little bit better access. I hissed as a sharp sting indicated that he has pushed passed the barricade and soon I felt his finger buried inside of me. Despite the fact that I had just come, not even five minutes prior, his actions turn me on so much that I feel the familiar hardness between my legs almost immediately. Carl begins to work his finger gently in and out of my hole and after adjusting to it, it actually begins to feel pretty good. With his free hand, he again takes hold of me, this time to continually stroke me; bringing me closer and closer to the bring once again.

I let out an accidental whimper when he suddenly stops, pulling his finger free of me. He chuckles slightly at how needy I sound, but quickly occupies his attention with lining himself up with my entrance. The anticipation is killing me. Every young person anticipates the loss of their virginity in some form or another. And now that I had found Carl, and was sure he was the only one for me, I was more than ready to finally lose it. Especially since I knew he'd be the one taking it. He spits in his hand, and I'm amazed he had even thought of that. I certainly had forgotten. Briefly, the cold sensation of his saliva touching my most intimate area sends a shiver down my spine, and then, once again, there is a sharp sensation as he pushes the head of his length through the opening. The feeling, however, is slightly different than when he used his finger. Its better. In almost everyway. This time, we both gasp at the same time. His eyes are screwed shut, upper teeth biting down on his lower lip. I allow my head to fall back and my own eyes to close. And before long, he's moving and I'm experiencing all sorts of sensations at once. At first, its painful, and I wince, but after a few moments, I adjust to this new sensation and I nearly can't silence the groan that escapes my lips. He begins to pick up his pace, leaning over me to have access to my lips.

We kiss and that's all it takes.

Its just a slight brush of his lips, touch of his tongue, and both of us groan into the others mouth, as we experience our orgasms at the same time. I feel warmth filling the inside of me and he's trembling on top of me, his face buried into my shoulder. I can hear him gasping at the sensations coursing through his body as he experiences what is likely the most powerful orgasm of his young life. Mine is equally explosive, shooting off to the side and onto the the side of the bed sheets. Eventually, both of our breathing returns to normal, but he doesn't move, staying rested bent over me, head on my shoulder. We lay that way for several minutes, both of us just trying to collect our thoughts. Eventually he lifts his head and offers me a quick kiss on the lips.

"Was that okay for you?" I ask. Its a dumb question giving his reaction just now, but Carl is used to be asking the obvious by this point.

He's only able to nod and smile, unable to summon his voice just yet.

"Good," I grin. "But we'd better clean up. Don't want your dad seeing all the evidence of this, even if he _does_ know about us now."

Carl chuckles and agrees and we reluctantly rise up off the bed and clean up our mess. After making sure we had carefully eliminated the evidence, we both slipped under the covers of our shared bed. I had to lie on my bed, due to the condition of my arm, but Carl was only too happy to snuggle up to me this way, resting his arm across my chest and resting his head on my shoulder. It was the first time since the neighborhood that we had slept touching one another and it was a most welcome change to sleeping alone. I wrapped my good arm around him and secure him in a tight embrace. In unison, we both sigh, and it is a happy sigh. The cost of our exertions finally begins to hit me and I feel sleep closing in, as I know it must for be for Carl as well. And so, with the final ounce of my strength, I lean over and kiss his forehead gently.

"Good night, Carl."

He closes his eyes and smiles, "Good night."

"I love you."

"...I love you too."

And the darkness closes in.

* * *

**A/N: I'm telling you, this chapter was the hardest one of them all to write, for obvious reasons. Deciding on how Rick should react and how they would "celebrate" acceptance. Let me tell ya, it took me awhile to decide on this route, but after consulting some friends of mine, I decided this chapter turned out exactly how I intended it to. Hope you enjoyed!**

**Now, with that comes an announcement. This chapter brings an end to the first Story Arc of this fanfic. The first twelve chapters sort of revolve around Carl and Tanner's relationship going from hostile strangers to budding lovers, which, obviously came to fruition in this chapter. The second story arc will begin in Terminus (though I won't spoil and say what it'll be about), so that long wait is finally over, though that also means I probably won't post a chapter until Sunday night. I have a plan for how Terminus is going to turn out, but I want to gauge it against what the TV series does, if they touch on it this week. Depending on how that episode goes is how I'll finish up chapter 13. So expect it either late Sunday night or sometime on Monday!**

**I will respond to all the reviews from Chapters 11 and 12 in that chapter as well, since its nearly 3 A.M. here as it is, and I'm about to drop into slumberland xD hahaha**

**As always, comment, review, follow, and favorite! Its only going to get better from here on out folks. Hope you all keep enjoying!**

**Until the next one!**

**Later!**


	13. Reunion Pt 2

**A/N: So, as you may have all noticed, having watched tonight's _The Walking Dead_, Terminus was neither mentioned nor shown. I anticipated this and have an update to my author's note from the previous chapter: I have a plan for Terminus, but, in order to allow for some tie in's to the television show, I am not going to feature it in this story UNTIL it has made its first appearance in the show. So, what does that mean for this story? One of the disadvantages of writing a story that takes place in Season 4's time frame _as _Season 4 unfolds on television, is that you get ahead of the series quickly, hence why I stretch out the time in between events in the television series and even change them from time to time. But, as an author, you have to expect the unexpected. As a fanfiction author, this is even more true, because, unless your fic takes place in a complete different universe as the original story, you do rely somewhat on the canon. When I began this story, I knew how the story would begin and I know how it is going to end. I also know the theme of the plot for each story arc taking place within it. That being said, I had a backup plan prepared in such a case that Terminus didn't appear this week. From the looks of it, it'll still be a few more weeks before we see Terminus. **

**So, for those of you who are excited to see Terminus in the story, don't worry, it will be featured. I apologize that it won't be featured in this chapter, and hope you will forgive me, but, I feel I'd be doing a disservice to you, as my readers, and the story to jump the gun and feature it before the show, and then watch as it unfolds completely differently in the show. But I got off track. Like I said, I had a back up plan. An entire series of chapters that _should _take just long enough to give the show time to show us what they want us to see. And, more to the point, I think you'll like this series of chapters because it will really develop Tanner's character further.  
**

**So, without any further ado, let's get right to the chapter (which I've had mostly written already since my last chapter ended) and see what I have in store for you in the second story arc of "This Cruel Reality". Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

My slumber is somewhat disturbed by a rumbling outside.

Lazily forcing one eye open, I scan the contours of the room. At first there is nothing, but suddenly a flash of light from outside the window catches my attention. Lightning. A storm was raging outside. A gust of wind struck the side of the farmhouse, the roar of thunder behind it. Shortly thereafter, tiny taps on the roof began to fill my ears until it became a full downpour. Georgian weather was unrelenting, but, even though it had disturbed me from my slumber, I didn't mind. In the past, I loved storms; especially when my heart was troubled. The sound of rain, thunder, and the sight of lightning was comforting to me in many, many ways. Next to me, Carl, who was still curled up with one arm around my torso, stirred and mumbled something to himself in his sleep. I couldn't help but grin to myself. The muscle in his hand spasmed, causing him to unconsciously grip a fistful of my shirt. For a moment, I wish this moment could last an eternity.

Carl sleeping peacefully in my arms, while I am also in his. Rain pelting outside. The occasional flash of lightning illuminating his precious face.

_I'm a lucky guy._

That's for sure.

I close my eyes again, still grinning ear to ear. If only things could stay this way. We'd wake up tomorrow and the walkers would be gone. Society would rebuild and Carl and I could be normal boyfriends, not having to worry about the day we woke up and the other was dead, or the loss of even more of our loved ones. We'd finish school, find a place to settle down, and live out the rest of our lives in peace. Maybe adopt a kid? I always wanted a son to raise and spoil and something told me Carl would make an excellent father. Even so, another blast of thunder snaps me from my fantasies, and it once again dawns on me that this cruel reality wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. To most, that thought would be enough to drive them to just give up. To throw everything aside and welcome death's embrace. But not me. Squeezing the sleeping boy next to me, but not hard enough to wake him, I sigh and drift off to sleep once again.

As long as I have Carl, even this reality is worth living through...

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

_A field stretches out before me. Dark moon on the horizon. Trees to my back. The frigid night air nips at my exposed skin, causing me to to shiver slightly. Dad was ahead of me, walking towards a farm house that sat along the dark horizon. I pause for a moment. I've seen this somewhere. The imagery around me is very surreal. I can faintly make out the shadows of stone mounds beneath the trees in the far distance, and just above the treetops, I can make out the very top of a large barn. And suddenly it hits me. I'm back at Hershel's farm! But... that doesn't make any sense... I don't remember Dad saying anything about returning there again. Glancing back up, I scan the horizon again. Dad is still walking off in the distance, seemingly ignorant of the fact that I had stopped moments ago. Immediately a sensation of dread fills my gut. Something isn't right. I shouldn't be here. Why does Dad keep walking? Where is Michonne? And..._

_Where is Tanner?_

_"Carl..."_

_The voice that utters my name causes my blood to freeze. Dread turns to fear. Its not the voice of something living. Instead, its raspy, scratchy, and is said with a hint of a snarl to it. The voice had come from behind me and suddenly I have an urge to turn to see who it is. But the fear in my gut is growing. Whatever is back there is not something that means good will to me. But, for some reason, I can't control my actions, and my body starts to turn._

_"Carl...!"_

_This time the voice is icier. I try to will my eyes shut, not wanting to see what my body is turning against my will to view. But its too late. I see it, in all its grotesque horror._

_Shane._

_Or what was once Shane._

_He's standing above me, fresh bullet wound in his skull, still pouring blood. His tight, tanned skin has turned pale with death, eyes becoming murky and glazed over. Reflexively, I take a frightened step backwards. The heel of my foot catches on something, sending me toppling over backwards, until I eventually land hard on my back. Rubbing my head, I try to force myself to my feet again, knowing the undead Shane would be waiting for me. But my horrors are only just beginning as I see what I have tripped over. Lying in the grass where I had fallen, stomach gruesomely ripped open, and bullet wound in his own head and arms flailing, is the reanimated corpse of Dale. My breath catches as I see the horror that was carved into his face at the time of his death, still chiseled into his now decaying skull. Shane is still standing behind him, gaze evil and hungry._

_"Carl..!" the Dale-thing groans._

_Panic consumes me._

_Before I can even register the movement, I'm in flight towards where I had seen Dad heading. What was happening? How did I get here? Surely nothing like this could **really** happen?! A powerful gale of cold wind screams across the field, catching me entirely be surprise, and blowing my hat clean off my head. The strength of the blast of wind knocks the breath from my lungs, forcing me to halt my retreat. Glancing fearfully over my shoulders, I can see Shane moving in the same limping fashion as most walkers, advancing slowly towards me. Dale is crawling, using his arms to pull his mangled form along the ground, also advancing in my direction. My heart is pounding in my chest, threatening to burst through my ribcage and tear right out of my chest. Looking back towards the farm, there is no sign of Dad anymore. Michonne isn't there. And... Tanner... nowhere in sight. Once my breath is back I'm running again, closing in on the fence that separates the field from the main yard of Hershel's farm house._

_"Dad!" I call out, desperate for help. "Michonne! Tanner!"_

_My voice echoes out against the endless abyss. Yet, no one returns my calls._

_To my left, there is movement among the trees. A young girl, almost my height, begins to limp out from the shadows of the woods. Her clothes are torn and ragged. In a way, the look too small for her. Her hair is crazed and frayed. Her skin is like Shane's and Dale's: pale, cold, dead. She's hissing, snapping, and gnashing at me in typical walker fashion. Once more I begin to slowly backpedal. And then my eyes catch the small, torn teddy bear that she's holding. And though she looks older than when I last saw her, I know exactly who I'm looking at._

_"Sophia?!" My voice cracks, as both fear and tremendous sadness begin to surge through my chest, making it feel dense and heavy._

_"Carl!"_

_A female's voice. My chest heaves as tears sudden spill out of my eyes. Its not Sophia that is saying my name. She was in front of me. I could see her clearly. If she had made that sound, I'd have seen her do so. But the voice that calls out to me is behind me and very familiar. Another cold gust of wind envelops me, causing the tears now flowing freely down my cheeks to sting as they make their fall to the earth. Turning, once again against my will, I see what I had suspected all along. And I can no longer control my own sobbing._

_Walking towards me from the direction of the house is Mom. _

_Her stomach is still cut wide open from the C-section she had received from Maggie. But she's not the mom I remember. Like the others, she's grey, decaying. Her gaze is glazed over. My mother is very much dead. And yet she continues to walk towards me, hungrily reaching out in front of her, hoping to join the others in tearing into my still-living flesh. But seeing Mom has drained my will to run. My quivering knees buckle and crumble beneath me. The guttural snarls from around me tell me that Shane, Dale, Sophia, and Mom are closing in on me. But, as though that wasn't enough torment, my eyes wander up a final time. And in that moment, my spirit breaks completely. Around me are all faces I know: Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, Beth, Daryl, Carol, T-Dog, Andrea, and... and..._

_A small, tiny figure, less imposing than the rest, breaks their tight formation around me, crawling ever closer._

_Judith..._

_They're all snarling hungrily. Even my dead sister. _

_My entire body shakes with my sobs, my vision blurring with the out pour of tears. I brace for them to finish me off. Honestly, I'd welcome it at this point. The pain in my chest is too intense. Far too intense. I feel like I'm drowning under an ocean of sorrow and guilt, with no one to pull me up out of it. But as I finally begin to relinquish my hope, I make out a figure in the distance. It seems to be standing on the large porch of Hershel's farmhouse, back turned to me. A third blast of frigid air sweeps through the lawn, drowning out the snarls of the walkers, and blowing the dirt stained white jacket the figure is wearing. And then I see the sword strapped across his back. Suddenly, its as though a light bulb goes off in my head. Even though his back is to my predicament, I know exactly who that is. The things that used to be my friends and family close in, the first of them taking hold of of my shirt, pulling at my legs and hair. But I can only struggle towards the figure on the porch, reaching one arm out in desperation towards him..._

_"TANNER!" I scream with the full might of my lungs, tears flying from my eyes as I reach for him..._

_And there is a burst of light..._

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

The sound of my own name bursting through my eardrums rips me from my peaceful slumber, causing me to nearly fly out of the bed and right onto the wooden floor. Instead, I'm thrust into a sitting position, though its a little too abrupt of a movement for my still broken arm, which suddenly cries out in pain, causing me to grunt in agony. But my thoughts are quickly drawn away from the pain in my left arm by the situation unfolding beside me. Carl is sitting straight up in bed, hair flying in disarray, and eyes wide with panic. He's drenched in sweat and is breathing incredibly hard. Immediately, concern washes over me, and I'm instantly in protective mode as I realize that he's the one who called out my name.

"Carl?!" I bark, trying to snap him from his fearful daze. "What is it?!"

He's practically heaving at this point, but manages to calm enough to look next to him. I can only imagine what he saw. I was in a bit of a daze myself, having been wrenched straight from sleep into a panicked frenzy by his screams. Without warning or consideration for the state of my left arm, Carl thrusts both his arms around me and squeezes harder than he ever has. Pain comes in a tremendous wave over my arm, as his own arm had knocked it out of the way in his attempt to embrace me, causing me to nearly black out then and there. Normally, this would be my cue to ask what the _hell_ was going on, but I'm quickly shaken from that thought as I realize that Carl has begun to sob into my chest. However, before I can manage to find out what in Hell's bathroom just happened, Rick and Michonne burst through the door of the bedroom, weapons drawn, looking as alert and terrified as I did. Rick registers the scene quickly however and drops his gun to his side.

"What the _hell_ is going on in here?!" he barks.

I know he's not truly angry, just alarmed as to why his son had been screaming, and was now glued around me bawling his eyes out. After all, crying was _not_ something Carl did unless there was a genuine reason for it. Especially in front of others. Even around me he hated crying, though he'd never admit it.

"I-" I wince as my arm throbs again, cutting me off briefly. "I was just trying to find that out myself. Carl, what happened?"

Rick and Michonne's attention turns back to Carl, who has managed to pull himself together to some degree. And by that I mean, his sobs had become less frequent and he wasn't squeezing every ounce of my life out of me. When he pulls his face away from my chest, his eyes are red and puffy, and his eyes are bloodshot.

"N-nothing..." he half-heaves, wiping his eyes furiously of the tears, and trying to regain the seriousness in his voice. A facade. Typical Carl. "I must've just had another nightmare."

Rick inhales sharply and releases a large sigh of relief. Michonne's hand loosens, letting her katana fall back into its place on her back. She's huffs her relief as well.

"Are you going to be alright?" Rick asks, sounding more calm and concerned this time.

"I'll take care of this, Rick." I suddenly say, nodding at him. "It'll be alright. You guys can go on."

Rick hesitates for a moment, looking from his son, to me, and then back to his son. Finally, he relents, nodding his head before slowly clambering back out of the room, Michonne in toe behind him. The room goes quiet for several moments as I let Carl catch his breath and sort through his thoughts. Carl looks like shit warmed over. As if he had just relived the worst kind of memory and so, I act out instinct, scooting closer to him and slinking my good right arm around his waist, drawing him into a loose, but secure embrace. Its not a hard task to accomplish. He's practically limp in my arms and merely rests his head on my shoulder, staring blankly into space. After a few more moments of sitting like this, I finally speak up.

"What did you see, Carl?" I ask, tone soft and soothing.

"Shane." he says dryly. "And Dale. Sophia. Mom. Everyone... even Judith..."

I wait. There is more to come out.

"They were all walkers." he continued. "Tried to kill me. I-"

His voice catches and I can see a few more drops of salty tears free fall from his eyes to the bedding.

"I saw you in the distance and called out to you."

And that would explain why he had shrieked my name loud enough to draw ever walker for a good couple of miles. I gently rub his side in a reassuring manner. Since I had known him, Carl had experienced more than his fair share of nightmares, but never this violent. I wondered what could've triggered such an episode, but I remembered that I use to have nightmares like that myself, and that they didn't particularly _need_ a reason to manifest in that manner. Gently, I kiss his temple, and then nuzzle the side of his head.

"It was just a dream." I reassure him. "Everything is okay now."

Carl let's out a frustrated sigh and finally looks at me for the first time, out of the side of his eyes, which are still red from his crying.

"Am I a bad person?"

_Right the fuck out of nowhere. _Carl was good like that. It kept things interesting at the very least.

You never knew what he was going to say until he said it. In any other situation, I'd have laughed at his total randomness, but he is serious and I know he needs me to be there for him. It genuinely pulled at my heart strings to hear him ask such a question. Whatever he had seen in this dream, it was bothering him _very_ badly.

"Now what, may I ask, would cause you to ask a question like that?"

I genuinely didn't know how Carl could think of himself as a bad person. Sure, he'd done things he wasn't proud of, but we all did these days. And he was _not_ a bad person. I knew this. Could attest to it, and yet, somehow Carl seems to think otherwise.

"I'm the one who put Shane down." Carl begins. I knew that, but I also knew he was going somewhere with this, so I sat in silence and listened. "And if it hadn't been for me, Dale would've lived. Sophia... was my friend. It was _my_ responsibility to find her and instead, I waited around at the farm while she was out there. She got bit. And Mom..." his breath hitched again and I resumed gently rubbing the side of his arm to calm him. "I had to kill her. She was still alive. She hadn't turned yet. _I_ killed her. And if I had just kept an eye on Judith... if I had never left her side... she'd..."

"Carl," I suddenly say, interrupting him. "You can't let yourself think like that."

"Why not?!" he snaps, raising his voice. "If I had just done things differently, none of them would've had to die! It's all my fault."

"It is not." I affirm. "Listen to me. I get it. These people were like your family. Some of them actually _were_ your family. And somewhere in your head, you've got this thought that because of the circumstances surrounding your survival and their deaths, that you're somehow to blame for their ends, and that couldn't be further from the truth."

He's silent now. No longer looking at me, he has resumed staring blankly into space, but he is listening nonetheless.

"This isn't the world we grew up knowing." I continue. "It's cruel, heartless, and cold sometimes. The things that happened to your friends and family happened as a result of those _things_ out there. The walkers and the world that has resulted since they first appeared. Not you. Its easy to blame yourself. Especially when you need to have a reason for why they died, just so that it doesn't seem so senseless. But eventually you have to understand that the world out there doesn't make sense anymore. None of it. As much as we try to cling to it, it just doesn't exist that way any longer."

I stop talking and let Carl gradually process everything. He has barely made a single noise since I began talking and that doesn't change at all now that I've stopped. But, eventually, he begins to speak again.

"Then what's the point?" he asks softly. "Of any of this? If this world is just going to crumble, why even keep trying?"

Right in the heart. I knew how he felt, of course. I'd asked myself the exact same thing after I had lost my group in Atlanta. The only thing that kept me going was instinct. Until I met Carl... And that gave me my answer. I squeezed him tighter to myself and leaned into him in a similar to the manner he was leaned into me.

"Because even in times like this, there is always hope." I reply firmly. "I use to think the same things you do now. Before I met you, that is."

He snorts a brief laugh, the first good sign of the day, "What changed?"

"Remember what you asked me, only a few days after we met?" he glances out of the corner of his eye at me and raises his eyebrow. "Remember? I told you that Michonne must've had someone important to protect, since she was using a sword like mine, and you asked me what I had to protect? I believe I told you that I didn't know yet."

"Yeah, I remember that." Carl replies distantly, as if trying to recall the details.

"Well, I found it."

He snorts a second time.

"Just when I start to forget how philosophical you can be," Carl replies in jest. "You remind me. Everytime."

He chuckles lightly and turns his head, planting a soft kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks, Tanner."

I flash him a toothy grin, "Hey, its what I do." I reply, equally in jest.

Suddenly, there is noise at the base of the stairs, which are located just outside our room.

"Carl! Tanner!" its Michonne. "Get ready! We're heading out."

Carl turns to me, his face once again returning to the worried expression that was transfixed on it just moments before.

"We should make it to Terminus today." he says.

"That's the plan." I reply, finally sliding off my side of the bed, planting my feet firmly on the ground.

"Do you think we'll be safe there?"

Its the exact same question I had asked Rick the previous morning, while Carl was still sleeping. I want so badly to ease his fears. Tell him "yes, we'll be fine". But, as I imagine Rick must've felt when I asked him, to tell him that would amount to a lie. Especially if Terminus wasn't all we had cracked it up to be. I slip on my jacket, careful not to re-injure my left arm, before sliding my sling around it and then slipping on my shoes. I turn to Carl, giving him the most honest look I can summon.

"Truthfully?" I begin. "I don't know. But-"

Nimbly, I cross the room, circling the bed to his side, only stopping once I was completely in front of him. Leaning in, I return his earlier kiss by planting an equally soft one square on his lips before pulling back.

"I'll be with you every step of the way." I finally finish, giving him a wink and a soft smile before heading for the door. "That's a promise."

And I truly meant it.

####

It seemed that we spent more time in the car than anything nowadays.

I sincerely hoped that changed when we reached our destination. Not that I minded riding in the van - it certainly beat walking everywhere, which took so much longer, and was much more tedious. According to Rick, we were a good eighty-five miles from Macon, where Terminus was said to be situated, meaning that by car we only had an hour and a half, at the most, of driving to do. I usually napped on full days of driving, like this one, but not today. Even after our talk, Carl seemed distant and bothered by what he had dreamed. And so, with nothing left to hide from Rick, I spent the majority of the drive holding onto Carl's hand, every now and then giving it a gentle squeeze or rubbing my thumb across his knuckles to comfort him. Rick seemed concerned for his son, after seeing his behavior, but was happy to let it go so long as it looked like I was doing my best to be there for him. Unfortunately, Carl's troubles weren't our only misfortune today.

Only twenty minutes after we started driving, we found ourselves on the side of the highway, idle.

The van's radiator had finally blown and we were stranded.

"Without proper equipment," Rick was saying, bent over under the hood of the car, examining its inner mechanics. "We won't be able to repair this."

Michonne grunted, "Guess that means we're walkin'."

While that may not _sound_ like bad news, it most certainly was. Rick and Michonne had unanimously decided, the previous day, to drive straight between two "red zones" - zones with immense concentration of walkers - towards Terminus. In a car you could outrun a herd of walkers with enough talent. On foot, your chances shot down. If a herd _did_ show itself, we would be in immense trouble. Nevertheless, we had no other choice now that we were this close to our objective. If we were lucky, we could still reach Terminus by tomorrow on foot. And so, with that, and whatever supplies we could grab from our van, we began again to walk down the highway. Ironically, despite my earlier bitching, this stroll turned out to be quite heavenly for me, as I got to hold Carl's hand the entire time. In someways, I enjoyed that expression of affection more than kissing. Michonne picked up on this and decided to break the ice after we'd been on the road for awhile.

"You two seem to be gettin' bold since you told Rick." she observes slightly, well aware that Rick can hear her.

"Could be worse," Carl says dryly.

Rick cranes his head at this, giving his son a quizzical look, "It could?"

"Yeah," Carl smirks for the first time that day, which warms my heart. I hated seeing him so depressed. "We could be completely indecent like Glenn and Maggie were."

Carl's joke, I can tell, strikes a soft spot in both Rick and Michonne. And I can't blame them. This is the first time I've heard Carl speak of his former friends in a light manner since I've known him. But, in the same way, I could understand his thoughts. My dad always used to say that its easier to get over something you can joke about. Perhaps, in his own way, Carl was trying to move on from their deaths and not let it rule him as powerfully as before. Then again, it was also always possible that he had just said it reflexively, without realizing the effect he'd have. Either way, Rick only stays mournful for a moment before seemingly forcing a chuckle for his son's sake.

"I'll give you that one." he says in his thick Southern accent.

I shook my head with a brief smirk, "I don't even think I want to know the story behind that one."

Michonne's expression is suddenly serious, however, and she changes the subject. Though, in a way, I wish she hadn't.

"So, are you okay?" she asks. "What happened this morning?"

I hadn't filled either adult in on the nature of Carl's screaming or what he had dreamed about. We had left the abandoned farm house in sort of a frenzied rush, so I hadn't gotten the chance. Moreover, I didn't think Carl was ready to talk about it anymore at that point. And my feelings are confirmed by the look he adopts upon hearing Michonne's question. His brief smirk has vanished, replaced by what appears to be indifference and even slight annoyance.

"It was nothing." he insists. "Just a dream, like I said."

Michonne takes the hint and doesn't press any further.

In a way, it makes me happy that Carl had at least trusted me to tell me what he'd dreamed. It allowed me an opportunity to be there for him in a way that even Rick or Michonne could, which was a rare advantage. Even so, it strikes me as odd that he wouldn't tell them. Carl was prideful. He liked to be seen as strong by those around him. Perhaps he thought if they knew what he dreamed about, they'd go back to thinking of him as some poor defenseless kid that needed their protection, and, after his dad's admission yesterday, he wasn't about to give up his new found adult status within our little pack. We had traveled almost three miles when Rick spotted a small building on the side of the road, rising up over the top of the hill. Upon getting closer to it, I could make out a steeple: a church!

"There isn't anything we need, is there?" Michonne asked when Rick finally came to a halt.

"Nothing in particular." Rick responds, scanning the horizon. "But it wouldn't hurt to restock on water if there is any."

She nods and we resume following Rick. It takes us a good ten minutes to make it to where the church is. Growing up in a traditional Southern family, church was apart of my everyday life as a young child. Despite this, the church I found myself looking at was nothing like the ones I remembered. The parking lot was littered with corpses, the grass in its yard was overgrown, and on the once-white door that led to its interior was a disturbing message, that seemed to be written out in blood:

**The Living never leave.**

Carl glanced at me, as if trying to gauge my reaction, but mine was the same as Rick's and Michonne's; both of whom were drawing their weapons. I held onto my wakizashi with my good hand. It was the first time I had attempted such since I had broken my arm, but I figured that so long as I had one arm, I could fight back. Carl shared my sentiment, because he brought out his handgun, raising it slightly in front of him. We both nodded at Rick, who was looking back at us, waiting for us to get ready. Moving nimbly, Rick jolts forward, kicking the door, causing aged wood to shatter as both doors violently cave inwards, and we are granted our first look at the church's interior. Much like the outside, the interior of the church is small. Unlike the churches I am used to, this one is composed of only one large room, which serves as its sanctuary. To my intense displeasure, there are corpses still sitting in the pews, though none of them have reanimated. All have wounds to their heads, likely having prevented them from doing so.

"Stay close," Rick warns us all. "These wounds were caused by-"

A sudden thud above our heads cuts him off and causes all of us to jump reflexively. We all direct our attention at the source of the noise; the ceiling. Dust flies off the wooden ceiling again as the thudding comes a second time, this time traveling in a distinct path. Someone is walking around in the attic above this room. Someone, or something.

"Let's get out of here..." Michonne suggests, hand still firmly gripping her katana.

Rick and I nod in agreement and start to turn to leave. But, as always, nothing ever goes as planned.

Our path is blocked. Not by walkers, but by four living, breathing humans. And none of them look friendly.

_Not again..._ I think instinctively.

The group is composed of a large man, sporting red hair and a red beard, a shorter, skinny Asian man, who looked only to be a few years older than myself, a dark-skinned man wearing all the typical trappings of an ex-member of the United States Armed Forces, and a girl, whom I guess was about fifteen, wearing all black and with black long hair. The red-head was sporting a rather large machete and was easily poised to use it. Behind us, the thuds have grown louder. Whoever was up above was getting closer to us.

"Look what we got here!" the red-head announces, smug snarl crawling across his ugly mug.

"Don't you folks know how to read signs?" it was the marine-looking one this time.

"Now, listen..." Rick said, ever the negotiator. "Nobody has to get hurt. Let's just all lower our weapons and we'll be on our way."

"Should'a thought about that before ya kicked in our door!" the teenage girl barked. "Yo, Nat! Come look at what we have here!"

_Nat...? That name sounds..._

Suddenly, the footsteps behind us stop, and Rick and I turn to see who has approached us from behind. Standing in the center of the sanctuary, was a woman who didn't look a day over twenty-two, sporting curly black hair which reached down to her mid-back. She was wearing a forest-green sweater, black sweatpants, and combat boots. Even in the dull lighting of the church, I could see the glint of her predatory emerald-colored eyes, and make out the pale complexion of her skin. Like myself and Michonne, she has her hand gripped around a very long katana: called a nodaichi, very similar to my own. Her eyes travel from Rick, to Michonne, to Carl, to myself. And when our eyes meet, a sinister grin curls across her face, revealing the jagged points of her canines. I feel my heart drop to the very bottom of my stomach, my skin chill, and my mouth drop open.

"Na...Natalie?!" I nearly shriek.

"Well..." she cackles. "I'll be damned."

* * *

**A/N 2.0: I'm really liking cliffhanger endings xD Probably because I read too much manga and that's how every chapter ends for me. Now, I am proud to introduce the antagonist for my story: Natalie. That's right, a female antagonist. Nobody ever does those these days. Its always got to be the buff military dude that can like pop off 1000 rounds per second or something XD Well, this story prides itself in being different from all the rest, and so it shall be that way in this regard too. Now, you may be asking yourself: How do you plan to stick with the TV plot line (on the occasions when I do connect my story to the TV show) and write an OC antagonist who never appears? Long story short, because its necessary. I've had Natalie planned out on paper since before I posted Chapter 1 on February 16th and, Terminus or no Terminus, she was always slated to appear in the second story arc. She will be as important to this story's success as Tanner and Carl have been.**

**I think you will all like her. In that weird way fans like the antagonist of the series as much as they hate them.**

**She will not be a "Governor"-style villain and will be entirely her own thing. But you'll have to wait to see what her role will be. I will introduce her survivor group (as in the names of the others that are with her in this scene) in the next chapter.**

**I hope you all enjoyed this second, sort of break chapter, because from here on out, I'm going to pick up the intensity (that emotional rollercoaster some of you have mentioned)!**

**So hang in there and come along for the ride!**

**####**

**Now for the review responses I promised:**

**Obtained: No need to worry! I'm not even close to burned out. I just wanted to make sure Terminus was revealed in the TV series before I did so here so that I could give my readers the best and most accurate experience possible. Usually, if a story of mine dies, it does so in its infancy. This one is shaping up to be one of my long hauls. I'm happy you enjoy it and hope you continue to! :)**

**YoungBlooded: Nope! This story isn't going anywhere. We're just getting started :D Like I've said to previous commenters, I try to stay as accurate as possible when it comes to the characters, and while the story isn't exactly the same as the TV series by any means, I want it to stay connected to the TV series' continuity because I think it helps readers get involved easier. Thank you for your compliments and to answer your question, Tanner will be the only OC that joins Rick's pack of survivors. But, as I revealed in this chapter, OC villains aren't out of the question. Thank you for sticking with me through all of this!**

**HeadedCoffee: Thank you. I really appreciate that comment. Tanner and Carl's relationship, despite what may happen on the side, is the central piece of this story, and its development is the reason for the plot. You can expect new dynamics and a constantly growing love between the two of them for the rest of the story. I really am pleased with how they've turned out. Thank you for your review!**

**Thank you everyone for your comments and encouragement. I hope you continue to follow along as this story evolves and develops! Keep your comments and reviews coming and I'll see you on the next chapter!**

**Later!**


	14. What We Become

Its been a year and a half since the world ended.

And yet, seeing her face brings it all back to me...

((**Tanner's P.o.V. - Flashback**))

***The Day of the Apocalypse***

_I was in my apartment the day it all happened. _

_It was a week after I had first been dropped off here in Atlanta for school. I hadn't yet gone to any classes, but I'd traveled to campus a few times and met people. All worthless now. Now I was standing on the highway leading out of Atlanta: Georgia State Route 9, otherwise known as Interstate 85. I wasn't the only one out here of course. The highway was packed full of cars and people attempting to flee the city. No one was quite sure what was really happening or why. All we knew was that the dead were coming back and attacking the living. The government in Washington D.C. had promised a quick solution, but now, as night was setting on the first day, it was safe to say that the solution they were proposing was nowhere near completion. I had been furiously dialing my mother from my cell phone ever since I first left the city, but all lines were busy. There was noway to know what was happening. _

_"Hey kid," a voice came from behind me. "Where're your parents? You look lonely out here."_

_Apparently the fact that a then-sixteen year old was standing amidst this chaos with no parents in sight had apparently alarmed several other people. The woman who was speaking to me was at least twenty, maybe twenty one, long dark black hair which curled the further down her back it traveled. She had pasty pale skin, very vibrant green eyes, and was wearing all green clothing. _

_"I'm on my own." I replied, still somewhat dazed by everything going on. "I was here for school but then..."_

_She cranes her eye brow at me and then glances down at my shirt._

_On that particular day, I was wearing my school sweatshirt; a gift from the college as a housewarming gift to all new students. I quickly noticed that the same school insignia was emblazoned on her own green sweatshirt._

_"Aren't you a little young for college?" she asks._

_I resist the urge to roll my eyes, "Yeah, I get that a lot. My parents were sticklers for grades. It payed off."_

_I hated having to explain this to all the twenty-somethings at the school, but, in some twisted sense, there was a sense of pride that filled me that the older students recognized both my youth and talent. Not that it mattered anymore. She seemed to accept this answer and merely nodded, turning her attention back to the pandemonium on the highway. I had also been drawn away from the conversation. Not by the highway, however, but the droning sound that was now buzzing through the air. Apparently I wasn't the only one who had noticed, however, because, like me, other heads were beginning to look into the night sky; furiously searching for the source of the noise. We got our answer and it wasn't pleasant. _

_Several military jets suddenly soared over the top of us, heading in the direction of the city._

_I was horrified. Was **this** really the solution the government had come up with?! And what if there were still innocents trapped in the city? I had no time to focus on these thoughts though, because as soon as the the jets disappeared over the trees, the sound of explosions slammed through my ear canals, and now everything is clear. The military is bombing Atlanta, trying to eradicate the undead on the rise in its streets. The realization that this is all **really** happening finally hits me and I can feel hot tears welling up in my eyes. Here I am, in Georgia of all places, thousands of miles from home, and of course, the world is ending. Unconsciously, my shoulders begin to quiver as the tears fall, but are suddenly stopped when a hand is there._

_"Hey now," its the woman from earlier. "Everything is going to be just fine."_

_Her voice is soft and soothing, yet firm and confident._

_"Listen, a few of us are getting together a little ways from here." she continues. "We're just trying to get away from this mess and figure out what's going on. You know? Put our heads together and stuff. Why don't you come with me? I'll look after you until you can get into contact with your family."_

_I sniffle pitifully, wiping back my tears before finally nodding._

_"What's your name?" she asks once I've dried up a bit._

_"Tanner." _

_"Nice to meet you, Tanner." she replies with a warm smile, hand still on my shoulder. "I'm Natalie. But everyone just calls me Nat."_

####

***Several Days Later***

_I hadn't been keeping track of the days like the others._

_What was the point? The world was over. There was no use to clinging to meaningless things like time anymore. We had made our camp in the woods several miles outside of Atlanta. A small community, maybe fifteen or sixteen of us. I only knew a few of their names: Kelly, the typical soccer mom, and her three young kids Kyle, Sam, and Liam. Her husband had been one of the first victims of this outbreak. And then there was Natalie, the woman responsible for me even being here in the first place, and who had been insistent on me referring to her as "Nat". Apparently, that's what everyone else called her, and so she preferred it to her full name. For the most part, I kept to myself, staying on the edge of the camp or hiding out in my tent, away from the others. And that is where I was today, laying on my back in my cot in my tent, staring blankly at the ceiling. As had become accustomed of her since I arrived here, Nat poked herself into my tent around lunch time, no doubt to try and coax me out._

_"Hey kiddo," she chirps. "You gonna just sit in here and be depressed all day again?"_

_She says it in a jesting manner, but its not too far from the truth._

_"What's the point of coming out?" I retort. I'm in no mood be pestered at the moment. "Nothing to see anyways."_

_"Ooooh," she waved my mood off. "Stop being such a prune! Come outside and get your vitamin D. You need sunlight!"_

_I grunt, annoyed, and roll over on my side. But Nat is persistent, now coming completely inside the tent and kneeling beside my cot. _

_"Well if you're not coming out, I'll just stay in here and annoy the shit out of you until you do." her voice is adamant, but still joking. I had to give her credit. She was trying to be understanding and cheerful._

_But, unfortunately for her, my mood isn't improving and I roll over, angry expression flashing over my face. I can feel my ears heating up._

_"Why do you care?" I snap without thinking. _

_Her voice softens, "Because I lost people too."_

_So she **did** know. I was apparently very easy to read these days. And she was right. For days I had tried to reach my family in Texas. At first the lines were busy. But about a day ago, they went dead. Just nothing. No one's cell phone was working, so it was safe to assume that the networks were down. After that, I'd given up hope. The infection had spread to the entire planet and the dead were quickly outnumbering the living. Unless they had been as lucky as me and found people, my family was probably among the undead legion now overrunning the country. When I don't answer, she continues:_

_"My family was in Ohio. That's where I'm from. Like you, I was here for school. And, like you, I lost contact after everything went down." she explained. "Cincinnati is a big place. Just like Atlanta. They'll be lucky if they get out of there alive."_

_There is silence between us._

_I began to feel bad. I hadn't intended to take my temper out on her. I was just confused. I didn't know what to do anymore. So, in apologetic fashion, I finally turned back over and replied to her:_

_"I'm from Texas." I say. "The town I'm from is a lot smaller than this, so my family could've escaped, but..."_

_She waits patiently for me to gather my thoughts._

_"Its not likely."_

_She pats me on the shoulder, "You have to stay hopeful, kiddo. We got out, didn't we? There's always a chance they did too. That's what I keep telling myself."_

_I considered her words. She was absolutely right. I smiled at her the best I could._

_"Thanks, Nat. Sorry... Sorry I've been such an ass. I just..."_

_"Hey," she says soothingly. "We're all going through some shit right now. Don't beat yourself up."_

_A scream suddenly rose up from outside the tent, completely breaking up our conversation, and forcing both of us to snap our heads in the direction of the noise. Nat looked back at me curiously, as if to gauge my reaction, which must've been horrified. Acting on her instincts, she snapped towards the open flap of the tent. I followed close behind her, curious as to what was causing the disturbance. I almost wish I hadn't. Creepers had arrived at the camp. I only counted three of them, but, as far as I knew, there was no way to kill these monsters. The only thing I understood well about them was that if you were bit, that was it. It was pretty much a done deal from there. My first reaction to seeing the undead monstrosities was to run, but, to my surprise, Nat was more adamant. She had brought three weapons with her to the camp. Collectibles of hers: two nodaichi and a wakizashi. Snatching the wakizashi from the place it was resting, leaning up against a nearby tree, she drew it in one swift motion, meeting the first corpse with the metal of her blade. With a jab to the skull, the monster fell.  
_

_So there was a way to kill these things!_

_Crouching, Nat slashed at the second undead monster's legs, causing it collapse as it was severed from its support. Rising up quickly, Nat moved over the top of the creeper, stabbing it through the eye, resulting in a splatter of blood, and causing it to cease its struggling. To my surprise, she actually **left** her sword in the head of the corpse, delivering a swift kick to the third and final cretin, knocking it to the ground on its back. Then, using the sole of her combat boot, she mercilessly stomped the creature's head. I heard a sickening crunch as the skull caved in as her boot connected. Suddenly my stomach was churning. The sight of blood and brain matter was too much for my weak stomach. I heaved and emptied what little was in my stomach onto the grass. Finishing up, Nat retrieved her blade and started to head back into the camp._

_"They've found us!" Kelly, the soccer mom, was panicking. "Does this mean they're moving out of the city?!"_

_The others voiced similar concern, while I stayed to the side, recovering from vomiting._

_"Calm down, everyone." Nat was saying, trying to hush them. "It was only three of them. Probably just wandered off the highway."_

_"We'll need to set up watches." one of the men replied. "At night. To prevent those things from getting one up on us."_

_Nat nodded, "That'll be easy to set up. There's enough of us. We'll set up shifts."_

_I couldn't listen any longer. My stomach was getting sick again. So, waiting until they were all busy jabbering, I slipped away and headed back in the direction of my tent. Of course, I shouldn't have expected to completely evade their notice. A crack in the leaves behind me freezes me in my tracks, causing me to wheel around to locate the source. As I should've expected, Nat was there, blood now beginning to dry on her clothing from dealing with the creepers earlier. _

_"Going to hide again, Tanner?" she asks, smiling. _

_I nod, still feeling too sick to speak words. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I'd vomit again. Unfortunately, the thought of this only made the churning in my stomach worse, and so, embarrassingly, I heaved a second time and vomited pure stomach bile on the leaves below me. Without warning, she approached me, coming around my side and giving me several motherly pats on my back until I stopped heaving._

_"First time seeing something like that, huh?" she asks as my attack abates. _

_"Y-yeah," I manage weakly, suddenly feeling drained of stamina._

_"There's no shame in that," she giggles softly. "I reacted the same the first time I saw one killed."_

_I take a moment to regain my breath and then confront her again._

_"Where'd you learn to do that?"_

_"Do what?" she asks, innocent look coming over her face._

_"Use your swords." I clarify._

_"Ah, these beauties." she indicates to the three swords, two strapped around her back, and one around her waist. "I collect them. But Cincinnati is a big city, with lots of culture, and when I was old enough, I enrolled in Kendo classes to learn to use swords. Just a hobby back then, but, it payed off I'd say."_

_I nod again, "I used to collect swords too." I tell her. "Practiced on my own time. Never thought I'd use them, but... you're right, it payed off."_

_She listens to me talk, and when I'm finished, she smiles. _

_"Here." she says, suddenly unstrapping one nodaichi as well as her wakizashi and handing them my direction._

_I look at her incredulously. Why would she give them to me? They're her prized collectibles. Not to mention that I hadn't practiced in months. I wasn't any use against the reanimated dead even **with** them._

_"Why-"_

_"Just take them." she insists. "Think of them as... a loan. To a warrior, a sword represents a piece of themselves, so in a way, I'm giving you this piece of me... to protect you. If you want to pay me back someday, do it by using them to protect someone you care about in return."_

_At first, I can only stare at her. How do people like her exist? So kind and charismatic. I look down at her offering and finally smile, her sentiments reaching my heart and warming it. Reluctantly, I reach out and take a hold of the two weapons in her hand and, smiling brightly, she relinquishes them to me..._

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V. - The Present**)))

"N-Natalie?!"

"Well, I'll be damned."

Was this some terrible nightmare? No! She was right there. I could see her. She had aged a bit since I last saw her, but that was undoubtedly Nat. That just couldn't be though! When the herd attacked the camp, everyone was killed or eaten, so then...

"How-"

"Am I alive?" her voice is cold. Not the warm, confident voice I remember soothing me for several months after the end. "I'm wondering the same thing about you."

At this point, I noticed Carl, Rick, and Michonne watching me carefully. All three were obviously confused beyond belief. Nat's own group was staying silent, seemingly content to watch our twisted reunion from their position, blocking the door of the church. In my chest, my heart rate only continued to increase. I felt my palms grow sweaty, could feel my pulse in my toes. She, on the other hand, seems completely calm and level headed. As if the revelation that I too had survived didn't phase her in the slightest. In the silence that filled the gap, she glanced down to the sword in my hand, which was now shaking with the rest of my body, then to the one strapped across my back. A smirk crossed her face, again revealing her pointed canines, which sent chills down my spine. Chills of _fear_.

"Still carrying those relics, are ya?" she asked, but from her tone, I could tell she didn't really care one way or another.

"B-but... everyone was...-"

"Dead? That's what I thought too." she snapped. "Seems the creepers didn't finish you off though, like they did to everyone else. Guess you have some spine after all."

Guilt suddenly washed over me. Guilt I thought Carl had helped me bury. But seeing Nat again, seeing how different she was, brought it all back to the surface again. I feel sweat beginning to drop from my face. Pain welling in my chest.

"Are... Aren't you going to blame me?" I asked solemnly, bowing my head in shame.

She snorted a sarcastic laugh, "What would be the point? In this word, its kill or be killed. The creepers attacked and you survived. That's all that matters."

I eye her incredulously. That was definitely not the Nat I remember. The one who harped on and on to me, when I would go into one of my depressed mood swings, that it was only together with your friends that you could get over the trials of this world. Constantly lecturing me to let her and the others help me carry my burdens. In the meantime, Rick's patience seemed to have reached its expiration point, because he finally lashed out:

"Who the _hell _is she?"

Without looking at him, I respond: "That's Natalie. She was a member of my camp in Atlanta. Before..."

Suddenly, Carl is at my side. I have to give the guy credit, he's gotten awful good at telling when I've reached the limits of my own emotions. Of course, at this point, it'd be hard to _not_ see the turmoil I was suffering. He doesn't touch me. Doesn't offer soothing words of comfort. Just stands close and a little in front of me, gun raised partially in a protective fashion. Its a sweet gesture. I rarely see the protective side of him.

"Seems you've got yourself some new friends, eh, Tanner?" Nat goads, craning her neck with a mock grin. "And you've told them about me. How touching."

"Wh-What happened to you?" I panted, heart rate finally starting to climb a little _too _high.

Her expression stiffens, becoming more serious; more predatory. Another chill runs down my spine. Something terrible has happened to her. To change her so much in such short time. Then again...

"Nothing." she spits. "I've just accepted this new reality for what it is. I've finally opened my eyes. This world is hell. Its inhabitants now only survive to be eaten or killed off by others as they revert back to their primitive ways. Like I said, its kill or be killed now. I chose to _kill_."

"Well, you won't be killing us." Rick fires back.

His gun, like Carl's is raised, and Michonne has dropped back into a defensive position. Despite the fact that the three of us are horribly outnumbered, it seemed all three of them were ready to fight. After all, no one in Nat's group had a firearm. If they were quick enough, we technically _could_ kill them all. But Nat isn't done tormenting me. Completely ignoring Rick's rebuttal, she focuses on me and continues:

"Do you intend to fight me?" she asks, searching my gaze. "Could you do that, Tanner? Could you really kill an old friend?"

"Don't listen to her." to my surprise, its Michonne. I glance over, still looking horrified, and see her hardened expression staring back at me. "I've seen her type before. Whoever she was before, she isn't anymore."

My mind suddenly flashes back to the talk Michonne and I had several days prior. About her warning Andrea to the evil that was in the Governor's heart and it suddenly dawned on me that she was warning me of the same thing right here and now. Of course, I wasn't blind. I could plainly see the dark change in Nat's behavior and I was no Andrea. I wasn't going to be fooled by her taunting. Still, that didn't make it any easier. I didn't want to kill her. Even the current her. Not if I could avoid it. In the meantime, Nat snorts.

"Well that's certainly true." she retorts. "But don't worry, cowboy." she turns her gaze to Rick. "I'm not going to kill you _this time_. I'll let you go," she returns her gaze to me. "For old time's sake."

Rick, Michonne, and Carl don't buy it. All three of them keep their weapons up and ready. They've had experience dealing with people who have become homicidal after the end, and I haven't. Now their experience shined and my weaknesses were grievously on display. I felt completely defeated, even though the battle was in words, and not of the physical realm.

"A word of warning, though." she starts to turn to head back up the ladder leading to the attic. "Come around here again, and I won't be so generous."

"That's perfectly fine." Rick retorts. "We have no intention to return."

Nat waves to her fellow survivors, who lower their guard and step out of the way. Rick, followed by Michonne, slowly takes the cue and begins to leave the church. I'm still immobilized by fear and guilt, but Carl isn't about to leave me there. Gun in one hand, he grabs my wrist gently with the other and pulls me along behind him, until all four of us are outside the church. I thought that was the end of it. That'd I'd never hear her voice again, see her again, and that the nightmare would finally be over, but then, from the shadowy contours of the church, she speaks again, having noticed Carl's actions.

"Looks like you got yourself a little boyfriend there, Tanner." her voice echoes out, stopping Carl, and, by association, myself in our tracks. "Never pegged dudes as your type. Though, I'll hand it to ya, he's kinda cute."

She's just goading me, but it works.

Though she hadn't actually said it, by threatening us earlier, and having recognized Carl and I's relationship, likely through Carl's actions, she was, by bringing it up, threatening Carl. My psyche begins to collapse. If she were to hurt Carl, I'd lose myself. I'm suddenly aware of how thankful I am that he's holding on to me, or I might have had to run to him then and there. It was a terrible feeling, this dread, and feeling of worthlessness that was rising up in me. But then Carl does something I hadn't expected, countering Nat's coldness with his own. Sometimes its hard to forget that Carl's heart had been significantly shaped by the events of this world too. In a way, he was her exact opposite dynamic. The boy who faced all that pain and yet still had his heart intact. I saw that now. Despite his demons and the things he'd done, Carl was still a _good_ person. And though I'd never even considered him remotely close to a bad person, I could now clearly see what _could've_ happened to him had the circumstances been more harsh. His gaze is defiant, almost murderous, but he's still only gently gripping my arm.

"Same goes for you." he suddenly snarls, causing Rick and Michonne to cast him rather surprised glances. Hell, it even surprised me. "You come after us and we won't be so kind and... If you come after Tanner. _I_ will kill you myself."

Without waiting for a response, Carl turns around, still dragging me behind him and we head for the road...

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

I'm irritated.

Not just annoyed, but ear's searing, pulse racing angry. But, its a strange kind of irritation. The brief confrontation with Tanner's former friend had dashed our hopes of reaching Terminus today, which was bad enough as it was. But what was really bothering me was the way that girl had made Tanner feel. Glancing beside me, I could _still_ see the effects of this. He was pale. Very pale. He had long since put away his sword, and so I was holding onto his hand for real by this point, and so I could feel how clammy he was. It was weird, I had never felt angry like this before. I wanted to hurt her. Wanted to make sure she could never effect Tanner like that ever again. But I knew that harming her would only cause him more anguish. He was still getting over the fact that she was still alive and had turned into something unrecognizable from the way he remembered her. Not knowing what else to do, I decide to try my hand at a pep talk.

"Its not your fault, you know?" I speak up. "What happened to her. Don't start blaming yourself."

His gaze doesn't advert from his feet.

In fact, he makes no indication whatsoever that he's even heard me. So, I continue:

"She became what she is now on her own. It was her decision. You wouldn't have changed that."

Finally, he looks up at me, staring hard at me. Almost as if searching my eyes for comfort he so desperately needs.

"I could've..." he finally says. "She used to be different. She used to be nurturing. She only became that because I failed to protect-"

"You didn't fail anything." I snap, cutting him off. "Didn't you just get through telling me this same thing earlier? The walkers are what caused their deaths. Not you. What matters is what you chose to do _after_. You faced all of that and still came out a good person, Tanner. She's the one who decided to become like that."

"I almost did too." he argues back, surprising me. "Before, when the world collapsed, I hated this world. I hid out in my tent and just waited to die. She was... at that time... the only one who tried to help me out of it. And now..."

"And now you have me."

That seemed to bring some color back to his face, so I squeeze his hand for emphasis.

I knew how Tanner felt, in a way. I had begun to harden to this world too. Losing Dale, Shane, T-Dog, Andrea, Mom, and the others... It had made me hate the world and even, at one point, hate dad. The Governor had only served to harden me further. I had taken the life of a defenseless young man, though, in my defense, he _was_ with the Governor's forces. And I had killed more than my fair share of people. In a way, if Tanner hadn't showed up, if Michonne hadn't returned, I'd probably be just like Natalie. Cold. Uncaring. Heartless. Tanner said he had felt that way once, so I could imagine that if I were to lose him, I'd feel the same way he was feeling now.

"That was surprisingly mature of you, Carl." Dad suddenly speaks up, looking back over his shoulder and giving me an approving nod.

I bask in his praise. For all his short-comings, nothing meant more to me than Dad's praise. And it was a rare gesture these days.

"I can be mature when I want to, you know?" I snap at him jokingly, causing him to grin. First genuine grin I've seen from him in awhile.

Michonne hangs back until she can walk alongside the both of us. She gives Tanner several comforting pats on his back before throwing in her own piece of mind. I realize then that this has turned into one hell of a pep talk. I'm almost proud of myself for initiating it.

"He's right." she affirms in her usual soft, tempered voice. "I've seen you stick your neck out for Carl on more than one occasion. You're a bit rash sometimes, but you have spirit. You really fit right in with our little pack."

I can't resist the urge to smile.

Tanner doesn't reply with words, but I can see the gratitude of her acceptance in his eyes. He squeezes my hand then, and I know that is his way of thanking me too, so I let the matter drop. It may be awhile before he gets over this, but at least he knows he's surrounded by people that give a shit about him. Sometimes that's all it takes to pull through. And I knew that better than anyone.

####

Dad finally selected a spot for us to spend the night. And right on time, too. Night was falling over Georgia rapidly.

He picks an abandoned barn out in the middle of a large field. There were a few walkers lingering around it, but Michonne easily dealt with that. The hay inside wouldn't be as comfortable as the bed Tanner and I had slept in the night before, but it was much better than laying on the cold ground outside. There were horse stalls inside, so Dad and Michonne selected one for each of them, while I picked one for Tanner and I to share. I was rather surprised that Dad hadn't objected to Tanner and I sleeping together, but I suppose he wasn't yet aware we'd been "experimenting" together, so he had no reason to be upset with it. It could also be that he was used to Glenn and Maggie. But whatever the reason, we said our good nights, and went to our separate stalls. Being so closed to Dad and Michonne meant that Tanner and I couldn't have any fun tonight, but, then again, Tanner didn't exactly seem to be in the mood for that sort of thing. Still wasn't going to stop me from showing him I was there for him.

"Thanks, Carl." he says as we finally start to settle in. "For the encouragement earlier."

I smile at him in the moonlight drifting in from the rafters.

"Its what I do." I throw his words back at him from this morning with a grin.

He grins weakly back, but I can tell he's forcing it for my sake.

My heart tugs, another annoying new feeling that comes with being his boyfriend. It doesn't like seeing him hurt. That's for damn sure. And so, as my eyes catch his, I do the only thing I know how. I lean in and kiss him softly on the lips. To my surprise, he actually returns it, wrapping his good arm around me to pull me in close to him. I decide to take control tonight, teasing his tongue with mine until he slips it into my mouth, and from there and gently suck on his, entwining mine around it occasionally. Its only then that I notice he's crying. One of his tears falls onto my cheek, due to the proximity of our faces, alerting me to this. Clearly I hadn't fully realized the effect today had taken on him. Tanner had only cried once, that I could remember. And that's when he first told me he loved me, back when I lashed out at him for not wanting to risk me going and finding Michonne amidst that herd of walkers. My heart suddenly melts and turns to puddy seeing him crying. Gently I guide him down to the hay-covered ground where I continue to kiss him, hoping that the small action will comfort him to some degree. We continue to kiss for several long minutes until he finally breaks the kiss to wipe his eyes.

"Shit," he chuckles miserable. "Sorry, Carl."

Moving swiftly, I trace my thumb across his cheek, wiping some of the stray tears he missed. I then offer him the best concerned smile I could muster.

"Its okay," I flash him a grin to let him know I'm only joking, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll forgive you _this_time. Next time, I'll charge you though."

He snorts a genuine laugh this time, which makes my heart soar.

"And what, pray tell, will you charge me?"

I hoped he'd ask that.

I muster up the best seductive voice I can, kiss his cheek lightly one last time, and reply:

"Oh, you'll see."

He grins again and closes his eyes, sleep finally taking his weary mind.

"G'night." he murmurs sleepily.

I smile, "Good night."

Tanner is out like a light almost immediately. But, I, on the other hand, am unable. Instead, I lay there, hands on my chest, head on his chest, and seethed in my thoughts. I had always known Tanner to be a strong person. It seemed that, whenever things went to hell in a hand basket, he knew what to do. Seeing him so broken and in turmoil had really stirred me. To make matters worse, I was haunted by recollection of the Governor. We had let him escape and in retaliation, he marched right up to our gates, and killed everyone. Fear was gnawing at me. What if that woman decided to do the same thing? Track us down and kill us all? I clench my fist in frustration and rage. I was not going to let everyone get hurt again. Even if that meant...

Swiftly, I sit up, careful not to disturb Tanner, who is now dozing quite peacefully.

Nimbly and quietly I grab my gun, holstering it on my leg where it always rests. Glancing one more time at Tanner, I realize just how dangerous this might get, and return to him. Careful not to wake him, I kneel down and plant a small kiss on his forehead before resuming my former standing stance. I slip out of the stall as quietly as I can. With any luck, I can do this and get back before anyone even knows it's happened. Making sure the coast is clear of Dad and Michonne and then slip out of the barn. My destination? The church. With any luck, I would catch them sleeping and they'd be powerless to stop me. This time, I'd be the one to protect everyone.

This time, I'd be the one to protect Tanner...

* * *

**A/N: This would've been done a _lot_ earlier today if my computer hadn't crashed _ Gotta love technology, though, right? This was a fun chapter to write, I must admit. Tanner got some massive development, Nat was introduced fully, and now Carl is getting some development. What more could you ask for in a single chapter? xD**

**Review time!**

**Obtained: You just described me after every single episode of The Walking Dead and every recent chapter in Naruto. I'm always left virtually screaming at my screen when they end because I want more : I'm glad you enjoy this story to the same degree! :D Thank you for the compliment. You are too kind :)**

**NOxONE: Oh, its about to get good alright xD Who says a romance story can't have some suspense and action mixed in, right? hahaha I loved it too. Daryl and Beth are a pretty interesting duo. I love character development. Still missed Michonne and Carl, because I love their characters so much, but it looks like next week we'll be getting some serious action, if the previews are any indication, so I'm satisfied. I'm actually kinda hoping Terminus isn't the utopia its made out to be . Could be just me being morbid, but it would make for a suspenseful Season 4 finale. But they can't do another major death. My heart is still being stabbed everytime they show the Governor killing Hershel. I swear everytime they show that in the opening sequence, a piece of me dies. xDDD Thanks for the compliment. There is certainly more good stuff on the way so stay tuned!**

**See you guys in the next chapter!**

**Later.**


	15. Who I Am Now

It rained again that night.

I was up, furiously pacing the barn. There was no way of telling how long we'd been sleeping, but the sound of thunder had woken me from my sleep. Immediately I had noticed there was no Carl present anywhere, which was unusual. He usually slept right up against me when we were together, so when I couldn't find him in our stall, I had gone looking for him. Confusion turned to panic and I had raised the alarm, waking Rick first, and Michonne in the process. Now, nearly ten minutes had passed. Rick had rushed out into the downpour to hunt for his son, while I frantically paced back and forth. Where could Carl have gone? Why wouldn't he have at least told me, or his own dad, where he was going? Worry was eating me alive. And it was about to be made worse. Rick emerged from the rain, drenched to the bone, but the look on his face was not one that suggested good news. And when Carl wasn't following behind him, my heart hit the floor.

"No sign of him?" Michonne queried, alarmed.

"I'm going out again." Rick snarled in response.

"We'll come with you." Michonne offers, snatching her sword from her stall. "You coming, Tanner?"

"That goes without saying." I grumble, grabbing my own weapons.

The downpour was relentless. Visibility was extremely low due to the combination of the rain and the darkness. It suddenly struck me that something was _very_ wrong. Carl was the mischievous type. I'd known that about him since I met him, but he was a bright kid. He wouldn't voluntarily go out into a storm like this unless he had a very good reason. Or unless he was forced. Neither possibility were exactly improving my anxiety. Michonne and Rick seemed to have arrived at this realization too. Rick's movements have become more frantic, but, despite our continued searching, there is no sign of Carl Grimes. Finally, Michonne offers a solution.

"We should split up and cover more ground." she shouts over the deafening rain and thunder. "I'll take Tanner and search the woods. You keep looking around here."

Rick nods and is gone. He's becoming more urgent by the second to find his son.

I mirror his urgency, desperately wanting to make sure my boyfriend is safe. Bolting off in the other direction, it takes everything in Michonne just to keep up with me. The woods weren't much better as far as visibility. The trees sheltered us from the onslaught of rain to a degree, but the clouds were covering the moon, which meant that I had to rely on my poorly adjusted vision to see in the dark. Michonne soon caught up with me, stopping me with a hand to my shoulder, causing me to jump in surprise.

"If you'll slow down, I can help you track him." she offers.

"We can't waste time!" I bark back over the relentless barrage of raindrops.

"Relax!" she shouts back. "I'm just as concerned as you, but if we don't think with our heads, we'll do him less good."

I pause reluctantly, but, realizing she's right, I nod my head in compliance.

She purses her lips, "Daryl taught me a thing or two about tracking. Just give me a minute."

Michonne pulled ahead of me, crouching low to examine the underbrush. How she could see anything in this lighting was beyond me, but the momentary reprise allowed me to think things more clearly. What would drive Carl to come out into this? Had he mentioned something to me yesterday? Something I missed? I started filtering through the events of the day, trying to search for clues. He seemed fine when we went to bed, was even teasing me like he usually does. Before that, on the road, he had spent the entire time trying to comfort me... because... I recall the church. I, admittingly, hadn't thought of Nat and our reunion in all the anxiety of not knowing where Carl was. The thought of her brings my heart even lower. I grit my teeth in frustration. Have you ever heard that old saying, "When it rains, it pours?" Well, that literally described every fucking day of my life since the shit hit the fan. It was really becoming exhausting. I longed for the world where the dead stayed dead. A world where Carl and I could've met and been normal boyfriends. Going on sappy dates to the movies, driving out to the country to escape the craziness of the city, maybe one day settling down together. A crack of thunder brought me back to reality and lightning illuminated the dark forest. We could never have those things. Not anymore.

"I found something!" Michonne suddenly blurted out, alerting me.

I rush over to her to examine what it is she's found. She indicates it with her index finger. A fresh set of footprints embedded into the mud.

"How do you know these are his?"

"Who else wears shoes that small around here?"

She had a point there. Though Carl was nearly sixteen years old, he still had pretty small feet for a guy his age. Hell my feet were nearly twice his in size. Michonne stood and began to follow them further into the brush. I was close behind her. We traveled that way for several minutes until the woods started to thin again. We unexpectedly emerged from the woods and I immediately realized where we were. We were back at the highway. Another crack of thunder and flash of lightning. Realization hits me and my anxiety flares to new levels. The dots were beginning to connect. Horrified, I shook my head. Surely he wouldn't go _there_. My heart rate increases and I feel panic beginning to take over. And then Michonne is beside me. And I feel everything go terribly cold. In her hands, she is holding Carl's sheriff's hat. The one item he _never_ parted with. I feel weak to my knees, but rather than letting them buckle, I go with my instincts and go charging off in the direction of the old church. Every gut instinct in me tells me he's there.

"Wait, Tanner!" Michonne calls after me.

I don't stop. I don't even look back. I just keep running, rain and cold wind lashing at my exposed skin. By this point, the rain has completely soaked through my clothing. Even my broken arm is soaked, causing the velcro holding my sling in place to loosen, but I don't care. I continue running.

"CARL!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

I don't care if I attract every walker in the entire damn county. If there was even the slightest chance he'd hear me, I'd keep doing it until he was found. The church appears in my field of vision. Dread is now sinking in like a fully weighted anvil. Because I knew that if he was in there, there was a chance I'd be walking out with his body rather than find him alive. And that thought sends shockwaves through my nervous system. If Carl is harmed... I'll... If he's dead, I'll definitely... Adrenaline controlling my systems, I plunge ahead as fast as my legs will carry me, until I'm in front of the old church. Like some classic horror movie, or some incredibly cheesy episode of Scooby-Doo, lightning flashes and thunder booms as I come to a stop at the church's front gates. There is no movement to suggest anyone has been alerted. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Carl hadn't come here. But my heart was telling me otherwise. Sloshing through puddles in the front yard, I move around the side of the church, searching for a window to peek in. Instead, something else catches my eye. As I move around the side, several figures begin to form out of the darkness. Another flash of lightning reveals what they are. Tombstones. There was a small cemetery behind the church. Suddenly, my heart leaped in my chest. As if attracted by some magnetic force, I began to slowly advance towards the gate to the cemetery.

Every now and then, I'd cast a glance behind me to make sure no one was sneaking up on me. It seemed even Michonne hadn't caught up to me yet. The gate swings open with a haunting _SCREECH_ and I take my first step in. I can now hear my heart thumping in my ears as I glance around and examine my surroundings. The tombstones in this graveyard were much larger than the ones I was used to traditionally. Some were nearly as tall as I am. Still, there was no immediate signs of anyone else but myself having been here. I turned a corner, passing by a dead tree, which truly served to further the horror movie feel to the surroundings. But as I came to the crest of the hill, my entire body was jolted to a complete stop. As if I had collided with some invisible wall and was unable to move a single step further.

"C...C-Carl?!"

My voice didn't even sound like my own anymore.

There, against the largest tombstone in the cemetery, with blood splotched across his pale, freckled face, was the lifeless form of Carl. I could only stare in disbelief. I couldn't even speak. There was no way this was real. It had to be just a simple dream. I'd wake up back in the barn and Carl would be lying next to me as always. Why would he even come to this place in the first place? But it was too real. His eyes were shut, arms lying lifelessly on either side of him, legs still in somewhat of a sitting position, as if he had slumped down into that position. I noticed his gun lying off to the side, as if it had been dropped. No, this was very much real. I resist the urge to break out into tears, overwhelming sorrow flooding every receptor in my brain. But before it can truly set in, a voice sounds behind me, and inside me a spark is lit.

"So, you've finally shown up, Tanner."

And with those six simple words, that spark is ignited into an inferno.

####

((**Natalie's P.o.V.**))

So he came after all.

In a way, I always knew he would. I had seen the way the boy had looked at Tanner earlier in the day and the way Tanner seemed to cling to him. The boy had come marching up to our doorstep, but whatever luck he was counting on in killing us, didn't show up. He had said something heroic. Something like: "_You won't be able to hurt him anymore._" Something to that effect. It was cute really. He actually thought that if he came here alone, he could deal with us and protect his little group. Unfortunately for him, I don't have a soft spot for children. And so, he found himself in his current state. I had seen Tanner approaching and decided to allow him to see that I was dead serious in my earlier threats. And so, hiding out behind a nearby tombstone, I waited for him to get the full picture before I revealed myself._  
_

"So, you've finally shown up, Tanner."

He stiffens.

I can't resist the sadistic grin that comes across my face. I had him wrapped around my fingers from the moment he realized I was still alive.

"Did you come here to save him? I'm afraid you were a step too late." I lecture him, folding my arms against my chest. "I warned you what would happen if any of you came back here. But, he seemed pretty adamant about you. Scram. If you leave now, I'll honor his sacrifice and let you-"

Something _very_ hard strikes me in the jaw. I had been too busy lecturing him to notice him move. The blow comes as a complete surprise, knocking me off my center of balance, and sending me flying into a nearby tombstone, where I land hard. Immediately, I can taste blood, and there is a searing pain in my mouth. His action just now has broken a tooth. Glaring back up at him, I realized what had happened. He had taken out his wakizashi and struck me across the mouth with its scabbard. Annoyed, I clamp my eyes shut and shake my head as I slowly rise to my feet.

"Tch, you just don't get it, do you? I'm-"

My eyes open, reflexes taking over to draw the sword on my hip. Tanner was a blur of action, swinging his weapon with his one good arm, directly for my throat. There is a loud crash of metal as sword blade connects to sword blade and I feel the full force of his blow all the way to my bones. I have to give him credit. To generate that much concussive force with just one arm was a testament to his strength, as well as to the rage festering inside of him. Now I can see his eyes. They would truly be a frightful sight for anyone to behold. They're bloodshot, blood rushing through the blood vessels due to his heightened irritation, and absolutely soulless. It actually took me back a bit to see him in this state. The Tanner I had known back at the camp would've run at the sight of danger. But the boy in front of me now was out for blood and I could tell from the sheer look of rage on his face, he wasn't going to stop until one of us couldn't move anymore. And I was all too happy to oblige. Our sword clattered violently against each other, mimicking the sound of chattering teeth, as we both struggled to push the other back.

"Not bad, kid." I goad him, knowing that my words are only kindling the inferno growing within him. "But... are you really going to throw away his sacrifice to save you all like some used up handkerchief?"

I shove hard and my strength wins out. Tanner slides backwards in the mud, but manages to retain his balance. To my shock, he doesn't relent to seeing the obvious differences in our strengths. Instead, like some crazed animal, he bears his weapon a second time and lunges, releasing a guttural snarl as he swings his sword out in an arc. His target seems to be my waist, his aim to cut me completely in two. But I wasn't like the countless undead roaming the countryside. I am intelligent, quick, and skilled. My sword blocks his with equal swiftness. Again I'm staggered by the force behind his strike. His slashes become frantic. It's apparent that he's no longer thinking with his head, opting instead to strike quickly and erratically, desperately trying to land a blow that will maim me. Unfortunately for him, this all makes his movements sloppy and easy to parry for one who is more level headed and calm, like myself. Once more, Tanner lifts his arm to drive his sword down on me, and, in that instant, creates the opening I've been waiting for. Seizing the moment, I thrust my own weapon forward, catching Tanner in his left shoulder and driving the tip straight through flesh and bone, driving him back against the tombstone adjacent his unconscious friend.

Blood squirts from the wound, splashing onto my cheek, but Tanner's face doesn't betray any pain, only shock and rage. Likely, the adrenaline rushing through his blood was blocking his pain receptors. Even still, I had him pinned. This little game was finally over.

"So the real you comes out." I chide him. "You haven't changed at all. Weak. It is a wonder you're still alive."

Moving swiftly, I pull my sword free of his shoulder, causing another geyser of blood to splatter across my clothing. Tanner tried to move, but I was much quicker, my knee connecting with his gut. That decided it. He crumbled like paper, collapsing to the ground with a pained gasp, water spraying up from the moisture on the ground as his knees connected with the earth. With a heave, he spits blood out of his mouth onto the ground. Pathetic. How did weak people like him even survive in this world? Slowly, I raise my sword again, bringing its sharp point to his forehead.

"You're an eyesore, Tanner." I spit. "Not even worth killing."

I hear him breathing hard even over the downpour of rain from the black heavens. His injuries have begun to catch up to him. He won't be able to fight back anymore. I consider killing him, but, as I had just said, it wouldn't even be worth it. He was broken, beaten, and he'd surely learned his lesson. I flick my blade free of his blood and let the rain wash the rest off before returning it to its sheathe. As I begin to turn away and leave him, I hear him hiss under his breath. Vaguely intrigued, I crane my head, glancing over my shoulder.

"W-wait.." he croaks, barely able to hold his head up.

I don't respond, only glare at him. His persistence was as annoying as it was admirable. I feel my eyes widen as he tries to tighten his grip on his sword, only to end up going into a fit of coughing, which results in further blood loss.

Is he still trying to fight?

It doesn't matter. He can't get up. Not in that condition.

"Don't bother." I snap at him, turning to go again. "Die there among the tombstones with your little boyfriend."

Ignoring his further sputters of protest, I begin to leave him in the darkness and rain...

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

The rain is relentless.

Nat has long since faded from sight, leaving myself and Carl alone in the cemetery. Pain is ruling me. My broken arm has been damaged more, now sporting a massive gash from where she ran me through. Blood was pouring out of it profusely. I knew that if it didn't stop soon, I'd been in a very bad situation. But I could neither stand nor call for help. Nat's finally attack had left me short of breath and coughing up even more blood. I cursed my weakness. I had let rage blind me; cloud my vision and she had beaten me. Utterly demolished me. I fully collapse, landing in the mud, my strength finally gone. Carl hasn't moved. I dig down deep inside of me, searching for the will to move, and slowly begin to crawl towards him; dragging myself through the mud with my good hand. I had to pace myself. Each movement caused bursts of pain to travel from my arm to the rest of my body.

Eventually, I reach his leg. Reaching out, I take a fistful of his soaked shirt and use it to pull myself up. I move slowly and meticulously, flipping myself over so that Carl and I are both laying against the same tombstone. And then, with what remained of my stamina, I grabbed his soaked body and pulled it close to me in an embrace. To my immense relief, I can feel him breathing, albeit shallow.

_Oh... God... thank God..._

He's alive.

It really was a miracle. I was sure he'd be a goner.

Even so, it wasn't looking good for us. Especially me. I was bleeding far too much.

For the first time in a good long while, I actually fear dying. Not only dying, per say, but dying and turning into... into one of those _things_. What a truly despicable fate to have to endure. Never knowing rest. Just endlessly wandering the earth as a rotting monster, who serves only to devour and kill the remainder of the living. My breath is coming shorter now as pain rises up in my chest. In the distance, I hear someone running through the puddles. Had Michonne finally caught up to me? Its not like it really matters. My eyes are getting heavy, causing my vision to blur. Despite this, I suddenly hear a voice ring out over the rainfall.

"Rick!" it _is_ Michonne. "Over here!"

And that also explains what took her so long. She had gone back to get Rick.

"CARL!" Rick's voice is a little more than just distressed.

Eyes closed, I feel Carl pulled away from me, likely by Rick. At least he's safe now. If he's lucky, he'll recover. Me on the other hand...

"Tanner!" Michonne again. "Are you alright?!"

Her voice is frantic. I'd never heard her this panicked before. But, then again, I didn't exactly blame her. I must've looked like shit warmed over. That's exactly how I felt. One of my eyes manages to flutter open, meeting her's in the darkness. I try to move, but a sudden jab of pain in my arm halts me, causing me to relent and lean back against the tombstone, grunting in pain in the process. I feel Michonne's hand light brush against my shoulder which makes me release a yelp. She hadn't meant to, but she had accidentally brushed against my puncture wound, which had sent electrical impulses shooting through my nervous system.

"Hang in there." she grunts, slipping her arm under my good arm before lifting me up and supporting me with her own weight. "Rick, we gotta get these two back to the barn."

I never heard his reaction.

In fact, I don't even remember when we started moving, because soon after she spoke those words, I blacked out...

####

My arm woke me up in immense pain.

I hiss in pain as my eyes snap open. I immediately regret that too, because the intense light filtering in from the barn's rafters stings my retinas. Glancing down at my shoulder, I can see that it is wrapped in a makeshift bandage. Where Rick and Michonne had found this material, I was unsure, but I didn't really care to ask. I could see where the blood had stained the wrapping, leaving a large crimson stain on the bandage. Wincing in pain, I slowly try to lift myself into a sitting position, only to realize that I'm not alone. Michonne is sitting nearby and has noticed that I'm awake. Instantly, she is at my side, helping me up until I'm sitting straight up.

"Easy there," she says, pursing her lips.

I groan as I wait for the soreness to recede, "How long have I been out?"

"Long enough." she replies. Her look is serious, but there is a hint of concern in her eyes.

"And Carl?"

She doesn't answer, rather glancing over to the other side of me. I turn my head and follow her gaze. Carl is laying on a makeshift bed of hay not far from me, his signature sheriff's hat lying on the other side of him. His hair is a complete mess and he seems to still be sleeping. I watch his chest rise and fall and am again relieved just to know he's alive.

"He'll be alright." Michonne eventually says. "Compared to you, his wounds weren't all that serious. A few cuts and bruises. Hit his head pretty badly too, but Rick doesn't think its serious."

I nod solemnly and bow my head.

"Listen," she continues. "About your arm..."

I glance up at her, listening intently.

"I don't know how to say this, but you'll probably not be able to use it again. At least, not the way you have before."

I had feared as much. It was already bad enough that I had broken it. In the old world, this wouldn't have been a problem. I'd have gotten a cast, let the bone grow back together, and in a few months I'd be good as new. But we no longer had that type of medical care. To make matter worse, Nat had stabbed me all the way through my shoulder, cutting through flesh and bone, further damaging my arm. I was lucky she didn't do more damage.

"We were worried." she continues. "We nearly never got the bleeding to stop. Rick thought you'd surely bleed out, but he never gave up trying."

"Why'd he bother?"

I said it without even thinking about it first. Michonne looked rather alarmed and then confused. To me, it surprised me that Rick had even given me any attention. I had failed to do anything significant and Carl had gotten hurt.

"Because you rushed after Carl and got hurt in the process." she replies as though her answer was obvious. "Its not your fault any of this happened."

I eyed her.

For once I agreed with her. We still didn't know why Carl had gone to the church. Nat had made it sound like he'd gone willingly, but I didn't really understand why. Still, it didn't help me feel any less guilty. Rick had entrusted Carl's safety to me and Carl looked to me for support. I had let them both down. To make matters worse my former friend was the cause of all the damage before me. It made me want to crawl back into the hay, fall asleep, and never wake up again. Our conversation is interrupted by Rick sliding the door to the stall open and stepping in.

"No sign of them." he says to Michonne, who nods. He then notices me sitting up. "You're up. Are you feeling alright?"

I glanced at the floor, to ashamed to look at him in the eye, "I've been better."

He nods, "Well, you did what you could." he replies. "Don't beat yourself up too much. I appreciate what you did."

I keep my eyes off of him, instead letting them wander back to Carl. I can't even begin to put into words how much anxiety was pulsating through me just seeing him laying there, pitiful expression on his face as he continued to sleep. Even though I can't see their faces, I can feel Rick and Michonne's gaze on the back of my head, which is slightly unnerving, but, nevertheless, I keep my gaze on Carl. I keep hoping he'll wake up at any minute. That his eyes will open, he'll sit up, and everything will be okay. But he doesn't. I sigh and narrow my eyes. I feel so helpless. If only there was something more I could do. Something other than just sit here and wait like some pitiful child.

"You really do love him," Rick's voice snaps me from my thoughts. "Don't you?"

My eyes stay glued to Carl as I ponder Rick's question.

That's not to say that I didn't already know the answer. Of course I did. I just felt that it was odd he was asking me this sort of thing _now_ of all times. Apparently Rick suffers from the same random questions that Carl has become so well known for. Finally managing to pry my eyes away from my sleeping boyfriend, I avert my gaze to his father, who is considering me with a quizzical glance. Michonne keeps looking between the two of us. I had to wonder what went on in her head during conversations like this. There was _no_ way this was comfortable for her. Hell, it was barely comfortable for me.

"Actions speak louder than words, Rick." I reply. "You tell me."

Rick nods again, keeping his serious glance, but his eyes soften somewhat. He doesn't say anything more but I can tell from the look he had given me, he knew the answer and was content with it. I suppose that it sort of made sense why he would ask that. Too many kids my age too easily confuse infatuation or sexual attraction with love. In the current world, there is no place for such petty attachments. And while Carl and I couldn't carry on the human race in any shape or form, I didn't think that was a requirement of love, like my dad would've had me believe back in the day. I loved Carl. That was the one thing I _did_ know for sure. And was the only thing I really cared about these days. But then a question of my own boiled forth.

"Did she get away?"

I was almost surprised at the venom in my own voice. The memories of Nat brought a sour feeling back to my stomach. Now its Rick's turn to avert my gaze. That's all the answer I need. Suddenly, the sickness in my stomach turns to rage.

_She got away..._

"We're going to need to move," Michonne speaks up. "As soon as you two recover enough to move."

Rick agrees, "We can't risk another Governor incident. She might come looking for us."

"We'll be ready for her this time." I bark back.

I didn't want to run from her. I only wanted to _kill_ her. For what she did to Carl. For the way she betrayed me. Not that I was in any condition to be fighting, but since when did that ever stop me?

"You can barely stand." Michonne counters. There's an authoritative edge to her voice.

"She's right." Rick says.

I grit my teeth, "Look at what she did to him!" I yell, indicating to Carl, anger rising into my chest. "How can you just let her get away with that?!"

"What happened between you two?" Michonne's voice stays level and calm, but succeeds in stopping my tirade.

A second time, I advert their gaze. I don't want to even think about her. About Nat. But I suppose they deserve an explanation. After all, mostly thanks to Carl, they had told me about their past groups. Their encounter with the Governor.

"She was the one who took me in after all of this happened." I reply. "Made me part of her group. Gave me those." I indicate to my weapons, sitting across the stall from us. "When I hated the world, she was the one who tried to make me love it again. When the camp got overrun by walkers, I thought she had died along with everyone else. I- I was wrong. And now she's some bloodthirsty monster."

"I can understand that." Rick suddenly speaks up, causing my head to jerk in his direction. "Carl's told you about Shane, has he not?"

I nod, "Every chance he gets."

"Shane was a good man." Rick continued. "My best friend. Either of us would've given our life for the other. But," he cleared his throat. "He changed as well... after all this. I had to kill him. Carl put him down when he turned. I tell you all that to say that I know what you're going through. I _still_ blame myself for Shane. But I had to choose. Lori and Carl's safety, or my best friend. Its not a choice I'd wish on anyone, but I did what I had to."

I turn back towards Carl, eyes narrowing with worry as I observe his fragile form once again.

"I've made my choice." I grumble, my voice low.

"I know you have." Rick responded quickly. "I saw that last night."

The barn goes silent as Rick, Michonne, and I go back to our own thoughts. Finally, Michonne raises herself off of the stool she was sitting on and collects her weapon, heading towards the stall door.

"I'll go keep watch." she announces. "You guys get some rest."

Rick and I nod in agreement and then she's gone. Rick doesn't wait much longer before he himself stands up and begins to walk for the exit.

"Get some sleep, Tanner." he advises. "Michonne and I will keep a look out. When you and Carl recover, we'll move out."

Once Rick is gone, I sigh outloud. Beside me, Carl grunts in his sleep. At least that much hadn't changed. At this point, I decide that there is nothing more I can do but take Michonne and Rick's advise and rest. Besides, I wanted to speed up my recovery as much as I possibly could. I knew how this was going to end. Nat was out there somewhere and she was going to make a game out of hunting me down now that I had inadvertently run her out of her sanctuary. I wanted to be ready when she got here.

I was going to make her _pay_ for what she did to Carl.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, is it really Chapter 15? o.O That's awesome. Sorry this one took a little while. I hope it was worth the wait! My aunt surprised us by having her baby two weeks early, so I am now the oldest of two siblings and ten cousins. (I know, you envy me, right? xD) But all the excitement slowed my writing down a bit. But I've already started on the next one, so, with any luck, I'll get back to my usual schedule. **

**Now, reviews!**

**Obtained: You were right. It didn't end well. Carl has this knack for wanting to be the badass. He did it when he stole Daryl's gun and went trekking through the woods. And we _all_ know how that turned out. Then there was that kid in the Governor's army. This was just an extension of that. Thank you for your comment :) Hope this chapter was enjoyable for ya.**

**NOxONE: That's one of the best parts of being an author. Pushing your characters as far as they can go and then seeing how they rebound. Its as much of an adventure for me to write all of this as it is for you guys to read it. And yes, I love any development when it comes to Carl. People write him off way too easily. He's easily one of my favorite characters (obviously lol) right up there with Michonne, just because of how much he's changed since we first saw him. And yeah, I know Hershel had to go, but still... I loved that old bastard ;-; A lot of people say Terminus will be tied to The Hunters, and honestly, I hope so. Because that will give me all SORTS of shit to use for this story xD hahaha I'm a sucker for conflict. Thanks again for your comments and compliments :)**

**Thanks everyone! Expect the next chapter in a day or so.**

**Enjoy and see you guys next chapter!**


	16. Here and From Now On

Recovery was slow this time around.

Carl had woken up the following morning, much to our collectively relief. However, he wasn't particularly talkative at first. I had expected Rick to tear Carl apart for running off like he did and while Rick did talk to him sternly, he was far more lenient than I had expected. And Carl had finally explained to us the reasons he did it: wanting to prevent a repeat of the Governor. It was understandable, I thought, but I wasn't condoning it. Carl had scared the shit out of all of us, _especially_ me. But I think he understood that. Whatever the case, on this particular afternoon, it was just the two of us in the barn, while Rick scouted the perimeter and Michonne went on a run for food, which we were beginning to run low on yet again. Carl was quiet, keeping mostly to his thoughts. I knew he was beating himself up over what happened, as I would've done in his place. So, I decided to try to cheer him up. And I knew just the route to take.

"Hey," I poke his shoulder, drawing a slight reaction from him. "Why don't you help me wash this cut on my shoulder. It'd be bad if it got infected."

He glances at me, eyes still somewhat distant, but nods reluctantly.

I walk around the stall to a nearby hose outlet, setting a dusty wooden bucket I'd found earlier underneath it before switching on the water. The water pressure was fairly low, likely due to the continued deterioration of the pipes, but I was able to fill the bucket and promptly returned to my boyfriend, sitting the bucket next to him. Gently, he helps me unwrap the makeshift bandages Rick and Michonne had wrapped around the injury, and for the first time, I see just how gruesome it truly looks. There is a clear cut from the point of entry _and_ exit. A scab has already formed, causing it to look much worse than it really did. I also notice a slight heat coming off of it, indicating that fever was beginning to set in. Luckily for me, I'd thought of cleaning it. If I had waited much longer, this may have become a much worse situation. Carl retrieves a hand towel we'd taken from the farmhouse a couple nights prior, out of his bag, and lightly dips it in the bucket before bringing it out to lightly dab the wounded area.

And I hiss.

It stings. _Bad.__  
_

"Sorry." he says, recoiling before trying again. This time softer.

Now that he knows his limits, he begins to thoroughly wash the cut, though he goes about it silently. I wince here and there when the cold water comes into contact with a particularly sensitive portion of skin. But I soon notice that Carl is becoming clumsy and when I glance at him, I realize why. His eyes are red and puffy, a single tear streaking down his cheek. I feel my expression soften.

"What is it?" I ask softly.

"I did that to you." he replies, his voice catching as he sniffles. "If I hadn't been such an idiot... You almost got killed. It was Dale all over again."

So that's why he's been so distant.

Using my right thumb, I wipe away the tear nearing his mandible, only to keep my thumb pressed against his cheek, rubbing it gently. I have to smile as my eyes meet his, which are glazed over with watery tears. It amazes me how everytime I glance into those perfect crystals of his, I'm reminded of how madly in love with him I am.

"Stop it," I say to him soothingly. "Nat did this to me. Not you. Besides, I always wanted a kick ass battle scar."

I say it in jest, even though it completely untrue. I was highly pain intolerant and avoided it like the plague. Ironically, since I met Carl, I had met more physical pain than I had ever come close to in the old world. I guess its true when they say you'll do almost anything for the one you love. Carl's hand comes up and lightly grips mine, which is still resting on his cheek, and simply holds it there. I hate causing him agony, so I decide to change the subject.

"You'll have to teach me to get better with a gun." I tell him. "With only one arm, I won't be near as good with my swords."

"Michonne could help you get used to that." he points out.

I had never thought of that.

I nod, "Good point."

He gazes off into the distance, falling back into silence, wet rag still dripping in his hands.

"I hated the way she made you feel." he says, suddenly turning back to me. "I thought that if I went and killed her, she couldn't hurt you any more. And I was going to do that."

I studied Carl while he spoke.

Apparently, my little confrontation with Nat the other day had effected him more than I had considered. To learn that it was that moment that factored into his decision to wander off and nearly get killed himself made me feel guilty in almost every way. I had let my emotions shine through far more than I had intended to. I made a mental note never to let that happen again. It was sweet of him though, in a weird, twisted sort of way. That he would go so far as to kill someone to make me feel better. Its nothing I wouldn't have done for him, though, so perhaps its wasn't as twisted as I had initially thought. He's suddenly deep in thought and I get an idea, gently taking the wash cloth in his hands, I move around behind him, grabbing a stool to sit on. He doesn't seem to notice what I'm doing, so when I sit down behind him and slide my cold hands up underneath his shirt, he jumps in surprise.

"Hey!" he shrieks.

"Chill out." I chuckle out loud, lifting his shirt higher. "We haven't had a bath in a few days, and since you were just so kind as to wash my shoulder cuts, I thought I'd help you with your back."

This seems to be all he needs to relax, because he helps me get his shirt over his head. I drape it over the nearby stall wall. Despite the two occasions in which Carl and I had engaged in activities of the sexual variety, he had always left his shirt on. That being said, this is the first time I had seen Carl shirtless. I have to admit, though I really should've known this before now, he was pretty fit. His skin was tight against him, his still-growing muscles beginning to show themselves underneath. In addition, I could now see the full extent of the damage his petite form had taken during his confrontation with Nat the other night. There were several large whelps spread out across the pale skin of his back, and a nasty-looking cut that slipped right under the hem of his jeans. I took my time to lightly brush my fingers across them, gently enough not to hurt him, of course, though he did shiver when I ran my thumb over the cut on his waist.

"How do these feel?" I asked him, still absently running my fingers over them.

"Sore." he replies simply. I nod.

I take the moment to dip the washcloth I'd grabbed from him earlier and dip it into the bucket, getting it nice and wet, and making sure to ring it out real good before bringing it back up again. Carl does a full body shiver as I bring the soaking cloth down on his upper back, just under the base of his neck, bringing goosebumps to the surface of his pale skin. And seeing that gave me a little shiver of my own. He adjusts to the chilly temperature of the water quickly, though, and before long, I'm scrubbing away at the dirt that has accumulated there, careful not to brush up against his wounds too hard. The more I look at them, the more my stomach churns. To think that _she_ did this to him. It made me furious. But I also had to wonder why he had never let me in on his plan. And so, I decided to confront him about it. Gently, of course.

"Carl," I say. "You can be a real knucklehead sometimes. You know that?"

He doesn't seem to get what I'm talking about.

"What did I do?" he asks, curiously.

"Going out there alone like that." I clarify. "You know I would've gone with you with out a second thought. Sure, your dad would've kicked our asses, but at least I would've been there to support you."

He says nothing at first. And then:

"I saw the way you looked at her." he says slowly. "On the day we found the church. I didn't want to put you through that again."

One thing I've learned about Carl in the time I've been with him is that, despite his tough exterior, and at times, cold indifference, he really was a very thoughtful young man. I always think back to the story Michonne told me once, where he was absolutely adamant about going back to some walker-infested restaurant to get a picture of his then-deceased mother so that Judith would have a picture to remember her by. I had thought that was so sweet of him at the time. Shortly after Michonne had told me this, Carl had shown me the picture, apparently having stashed it in one of his backpacks before the prison fell. It was the first time I had ever seen Lori, but I had to admit, I could see where Carl had gotten some of his looks. Particularly his eyes. This situation was no different. He had gone out looking for blood, under the pretense that he was a little badass, when in reality, his intentions had really been very sweet.

I can't resist wrapping an arm around his bare waist, pulling his back against my chest and holding him there tightly. It didn't bother me that his back was still wet from where I had been washing him. He leaned his head back, resting it against my shoulders, keeping his gaze fixated straight ahead. I can tell he's still thinking about whatever it is that goes on in that thick skull of his, but I pay it no heed, planting a gentle peck-and-release kiss on the nape of his neck. I see a soft smile curl across his face which is all the encouragement I need to press another kiss in the crook of his neck and then another up further, and then a third right up under his jawbone.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, idiot." I mutter in his ear, smiling with a hint of playfulness, so that he knows I'm joking.

"Tanner," his voice is also mischievous, so I brace myself for his retort. "I could've ridden a herd of elephants through here that night and not woken you up."

"Not an excuse." I jab back, grinning. "I mean it, Carl. No more lone ranger shit. Because if something happened to you, I'd never be able to forgive myself. Here and from now on, you and I are a team. Always."

He sighs happily and we sit that way for a good several minutes without speaking.

But then his expression goes serious again.

"So what happens now?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"She's out there." he clarifies. "Dad said they couldn't find her at the church. What if she-"

"With any luck, she packed up and left." I cut him off, my own voice going cold and serious. "Because if she comes here, I will kill her myself."

Carl wriggles free of my one-armed embrace, turning around in his stool so that he can face me directly. The look on his face is inquisitive with a hint of concern. Clearly I'd never talked that sternly around him.

"Can you do that?" he asks incredulously. "She was your friend."

I look back at him hard.

His freckled face melts my heart. His perfect, crystalline, aqua eyes don't seem to be helping either. Mix that with the fact that he's shirtless and dripping wet from neck to waist and you have all the ingredients for a rather _unwelcome _reaction in my lower regions. But, he's trying to be serious, so I shove the thoughts of just how handsome he looks like that aside and focus on his question. And it is a legitimate question. A few days ago I was close to hyperventilating just by seeing Nat. And even when I had confronted her in the graveyard, my anxieties had prevented me from thinking straight. So could I truly kill her, if it came down to it? I suddenly notice that Carl has bruising on the front portion of his torso as well. Particularly one painful-looking whelp right beside his bellybutton. My heart stings upon seeing it.

"I use to think I couldn't." I reply to him honestly. "She took me in, nurtured me, gave me hope. Even with everything I've seen her do now, I can't help but think that the old her is still in there somewhere. But..."

I pause, placing my good right hand on his waste to pull him closer to me.

"She hurt you." I continue. "Would've killed you too. I can't... I _won't_ let that go unpunished."

He nods understandingly at my response and then grins mischievously.

"You know," he says, leaning up and pressing a short kiss to my lips. "You're pretty cute when you're mad."

And I can feel the organ trapped beneath my cargoes twitch. He slides his hand up my leg seductively in such a way that makes a shiver travel from the base of my neck down my spine. I grin back at him.

"You tryin' to molest me or somethin'?" I joke at him.

He stands suddenly, walking over to the wall of the stall, which he is just tall enough to peep over. I see him check both directions before returning to me, snatching my good arm and pulling me off the stool I was sitting on. I shoot him a quizzical look, to which he responds with the toothiest grin I'd ever seen Carl give. I knew what he was planning. I was just surprised he'd want to do _that_on a bed of hay and straw, but I wasn't complaining. We reach the corner of the stall, where we had been sleeping since arriving, and he shoves me down on our makeshift bed and immediately follows me down. Unfortunately, he shoves a little too hard, and my shoulder screams in pain. I wince in response.

"Are you alright?!" he suddenly jolts, alarmed.

He's left himself wide open, causing me to grin despite the pain in my shoulder, "You know. You're pretty cute when you're worried."

For a moment, his expression remains surprised, but he slowly catches on to the fact that I'm joking, and returns my grin with one of his own. Then his lips are on mine and I close my eyes in preparation for whatever mischievous little plan he had in store for us...

####

An hour passed and our timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Carl and I walked out of our stall, while he was still slipping his shirt back on, just as Michonne came strolling through the open door of the barn, holding several old Wal-Mart bags, which she had filled with supplies from her run. She regarded us with a glance, but if she suspected what we'd just gotten done doing, she didn't let on to it. Rick was on her heels, still holing his trademark revolver in his right hand. Michonne drops her bags near the door to her stall and then both adults approach us.

"Any news?" I ask as they approach.

"No sign of them in town." Michonne notes, folding her arms. "But we have another problem."

I look at Carl, who is returning my own confused look, and then we both turn to the adults. Michonne looks at Rick, as if for support, and he merely huffs. Whatever it is has them both visibly bothered.

"The herd is on the move." Rick finally says.

"Its a lot bigger than we expected." Michonne adds. "Clearly they've been growing faster than we thought possible."

"And they're headed this way?" I ask, fear starting to rise in my gut.

I'd seen walker herds before. The herd on the highway after Atlanta was overrun. The herd that separated Carl and I from Michonne shortly after we'd all met. And, of course, there were smaller herds here and there than we had found from place to place. But Rick had explained what red zone herds were like. Carl had told me the story of Hershel's farm. The herd that had attacked them there was much larger than any herd _I_ had ever encountered. The thought of a herd that big moving through the area was a little too much for me. Especially given the state of my arm.

Michonne only nodded.

"They're slow moving, but I expect they'll start coming through here by sunset." Rick finally answered.

"We need to move then!" I exclaimed.

Rick nodded in agreement, "Get your things. We're leaving in an hour."

Luckily for us, Carl and I were still standing outside of our stall and were able to simply push the stall door open and walk back in. We work quickly, gathering up our things and stuffing as much of it as we could into Carl's backpack. I strapped both of my weapons on, making sure to strap my long sword around my good shoulder, rather than the damaged one. Carl had his gun holstered. Pushing open our stall yet again, we both joined up with Rick and Michonne, who were sprawled out over a map in the central walkway.

"Here is where we are." Rick was saying as we approached, pointing to the edge of one of the large red circles that had been drawn on the map, indicating a red zone. "If we're going to reach Terminus, we need to find the nearest railroad."

"Here." Michonne replied, indicating to the closest one, which was several miles from here. "Its just outside the red zone. A bit out of the way, but if we can avoid walkers, its our best bet."

Rick seemed to be in agreement with that logic. He then glanced up to us.

"Are you both ready?" he asks, glancing first to Carl, then to me.

We both nod and he does the same.

"Then let's get a move on."

####

"On the road again~, On the road again~" I hummed the old Willie Nelson song to myself, garnering a snicker from Carl.

Even Michonne seemed to find it humorous. I was just happy to see them smiling after the events of the past several days. The sun had begun its descent in the sky and so Rick was trying to increase our pace to beat the advancing herd of walkers that would surely be swarming the area within the next hour or two. We had come to a low point in the road, the scorching Georgia sun beating down on us. Seeing Carl smiling made my heart warm up, almost as fast as the cement making up the road, which lead me to moving over closer to him and grabbing his arm. I continued to hum the song to myself, swinging our entwined hands between us like some sappy teenage high school couple. This only made Carl chuckle more, which, of course, only served to encourage my silly antics.

But, as always seems to happen, right as we begin to get happy again, _something_ comes along to fuck our shit up. And, as I glanced up at the road ahead of us, I saw that particular something standing at the crest of the hill, blocking our path.

"_Nat?!_" I hissed.

I felt Carl's grip on my hand tighten with surprised as his head jolted up, spotting her in front of us. Rick and Michonne had similar reactions. Nat wasn't alone, either. Once again, she had her goons with her. Had they been waiting for this opportunity? They didn't seem particularly smug. In fact, Nat had a rather vengeful look plastered across her face.

"Well, well," she snapped. "If it isn't Tanner and his scout of misfits."

There is an immense amount of venom in her voice.

"Get out of our way." Rick snarls, taking out his revolver and leveling it directly at her head. "_Now!_"

There are very few people that would dare stand in Rick's way when he had a gun pointed at their head. I know if I had been in Nat's shoes, I'd have turned and run away right then and there, but, to my surprise, she holds her ground. I didn't know where she was getting her confidence from. As far as I had seen, her group didn't possess any firearms, and, on that note, none of them even had their weapons drawn. Beside me, I can feel Carl shaking. Whether in rage or some other emotion, I can't quite tell, but his gaze hasn't left Nat since she first appeared. Nat's eyes, in the meantime, have moved passed Rick and directly onto Carl and I.

"You two cleaned up nicely." she spits. "You're pretty resilient if you could survive that."

Now its my turn to be pissed, "I ought to kill you for what you did."

She laughs aloud at this, in true villainous fashion, "Perhaps I misjudged you, Tanner. Maybe you have changed. But that's beside the point."

But Rick is done playing games, cocking his gun with his thumb, "I'll say it one more time. _Move._"

"Go ahead and shoot, cowboy." Nat counters, again stunning me by her insane bravery. "You'll draw every creeper in the area and then I'll be the least of your problems."

"What do you want?" its Michonne's turn to snap. Clearly she's getting edgy too.

"To finish what I started." is Nat's answer. "Everything was fine around here until you lot showed up on our doorstep. Forcing us to flee the church we'd been holing up in. Well, no more. I'm ending this."

"We don't have time for this." Rick hisses angrily. "There's a herd on the move. Do you really want to be here when they swarm through here?"

"We'll be done long before then." she retorts.

And then she reveals the object of her confidence. She draws, from her back pocket, a small handgun that I hadn't seen previously and points it directly at Rick. It dawns on me, at that precise moment, just how bad this situation is. If she starts shooting, the herd will hear, and be here even quicker than before. Not to mention she could kill Rick. Still, Rick is adamant, staring her down while keeping her gun level. My attention is drawn away by movement beside me. Carl has taken his gun out of its holster with his free hand, raising it to point at Nat. She now has two guns on her, but if she is in the least bit deterred by it, she doesn't show it. Michonne's hand slides back and takes hold of her sword, sliding it partially out of its scabbard into a ready position. Preparing for a fight, I finally release Carl's hand, and rest my own against the wakizashi on my waist. I may have only one arm, but I'm not going down without a fight. Almost in classic western movie fashion, a gust of warm wind blows across the road, sweeping dust and grass across the concrete into the nearby fields. Behind Nat's group, the sun is finally touching the horizon. Tension is high.

And then, just behind Nat, at the curve in the road, I spot something.

And not just one something either. Marching out from the curve in the road and the trees surrounding it, is what seems to be a massive congregation of people, pouring onto the roads. There is so many I can't even begin to count them all. Instinctively, I take a step back, which alerts Carl. A quick glance in the direction I'm looking, and he sees them too. I can see his face go completely pale. I can hear them now. Snarls and hisses of eternal hunger rising quickly above the silence that had surrounded us. By now, Rick and Michonne had noticed them. The look of horror on their face caught Nat's attention and, unable to resist curiosity, she turned to look over her shoulder. What she saw caused her to spin around and backpedal several steps. There must've been thousands of them. An entire army was bearing down on us. Fear isn't even a strong enough word to describe the feeling of iciness traveling through my veins as I watched them advance in signature limp-like gait.

"Holy... shit..." I hear Rick breathe.

The herd had arrived...

* * *

**A/N: So, I've been reading through a few romance fics in the Walking Dead genre prior to writing this chapter, and I've noticed something. Several fics, in fact, a good majority of them, almost completely overlook the threat of the Walkers. In fact, two of the stories I was reading didn't even feature walkers in them. Mainly because they were located at the prison, where walkers don't pose too much of a threat, but even when the characters would go out on runs, walkers never even came into the picture. Re-reading some of my own chapters, I realized that, while I have most certainly included the walkers as antagonists in them, I have never made them a true threat.**

**Get ready. That is about to change. Big time. This _is_ the Walking Dead after all. xD**

**That being said, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, even if it was a bit short. I always write shorter chapters when they're leading into bigger events and the next chapter will be a very big one, both plot wise, and in general significance. Oh and, just fyi, no spoilers, but I do have a plan for two chapters coming up to just focus on Tanner and Carl, without the other tensions and such going on. So, if you're a sucker for a good ol' fashion, purely romance-based chapter, you'll enjoy that xD hahaha**

**As always, comment, review, follow, favorite, and all that other good stuff.**

**Also, before I forget, I never mention this, but if you guys actually have suggestions for stuff that you want to see happen in the story, don't be afraid to leave that suggestion in your reviews. I'll be honest and tell you that there's no guarantee that they'll actually make it into the story, because I actually do plan the content for this story ahead of time, but I'm always open to suggestions that make the story better.**

**Thank you all! I'll answer reviews for this chapter and the previous one in the next chapter.**

**See ya next chapter! :)**

**Later.**


	17. The Herd

A herd of walkers is like a force of nature.

They have no feelings or sympathy. They care nothing about your mental or physical condition. They strike when least expected and with devastating results. Their hunger is insatiable and they will devour everything they can get their mouths on. Alone, a walker is only a threat if you're caught off guard, but in a group, walkers are nearly unstoppable. This group was several thousand strong. Larger than any herd I'd ever encountered, and, judging by my companion's reactions, they hadn't either. By the time I hear Rick breath a curse, upon seeing the oncoming herd, it is too late. They're upon us. Even Nat's group, who had come to continue to antagonize us, had completely dropped the pretense of fighting us to deal with the more pressing threat. Having finally spotted their prey, the undead army swarmed, like a swarm of locusts descending upon a field of crops; intending to devour all that stood in their path. Acting on instinct, my sword comes sliding out of its sheathe, and I stab the nearest walker in the head. A tiny dent, when one considers the truly immense size of the walker herd. I hear gunshots beginning to ring out as Carl, Rick, and, in the distance, Nat open fire on the walkers close to them. Michonne and I have turned into swordsman right out of a _Star Wars_ flick, arcing our swords in furious loops around our body to swat away the advancing undead. In my mind, I know its hopeless. There are simply too many of them. Both Rick and Carl will run out of ammunition long before we put a significant dent in the walker numbers and Michonne and I's stamina is finite.

Unlike the walkers.

In the first few critical moments of the attack, the first kill is made. The young girl in Nat's group is furiously fighting away a walker with a machete she is wielding but, cut off from her other group mates, she is quickly overwhelmed by a crowd of walking corpses, one of whom lunges for her jugular. She screams her last scream right as the walker bites down into her flesh, spraying blood all over the others, who have begun to hungrily tear into other parts of her body. Her screams are soon drowned out by the gurgling of blood passing through her throat cavity, and she disappears as more and more dead descend on her. Nat doesn't seem to be phased by this in the least, capping off two more walkers nearing her, before tossing her gun and drawing her own nodaichi, charging into battle yet again. As I kill another walker, and then another, I begin to realize that we will all end up like that young girl if we don't do something quick. Briefly turning to my side, I can see Carl kill a walker that is charging at him, but a glance around him reveals that I have lost sight of both Rick and Michonne in the chaos. Not wanting to get separated entirely, I make a decision:

"CARL!" I cry out over the hissing and hungry groans of the dead, which is becoming even more deafening by the second.

His head snaps around to find the source of his name and when he makes eye contact with me, I wave him over with fervor. Wordlessly nodding, he shoots two more walkers before bolting across the concrete roadway and joining me.

"What to we do?!" he shouts over the noise, shooting another shot. I know he doesn't have many left.

"Have you seen your dad or Michonne?!" I shout back, pressing my back firmly against his and slashing out at yet another walker that is getting too close for comfort.

"I lost them in the chaos!" he barks back, another gunshot ringing out.

Figures as much. Rick and Michonne always have a habit of not being around when they're needed the most. Walker bodies are piling up quickly and yet it seems that we haven't slowed the herd down even in the slightest. I continue to scan the surroundings, in between walker kills, for both of our missing companions, but they're truly nowhere in sight. I've even lost sight of Nat and her other group members. I know we can't stay here long. Eventually, we're going to have to make the decision to run for it. Then, from out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glint of metal that has caught the sunlight and reflected it. Instinctively, my sword flies up to defend my vitals, and the familiar _clanking _of steel-on-steel rips through my eardrums.

_Nat!_

Its undoubtedly her.

In the frenzy, her black hair has become frayed and crazed, like a demon's. Her eyes are equally crazy. To make matters worse, she is using two arms, while I only have the one. And her strength is greater than my own. Our swords clatter against one another as we both struggle for dominance. I can see her gritting her teeth furiously. What is her issue?! The herd is still swarming and she was using this an opportunity to attack me of all people?! It was downright insanity. But, luckily for me, my body is reacting on instinct alone, and so, as I see more walkers approaching us, I think out of the box, sweeping my right leg out to catch her off balance and trip her. I fail, but the force from the blow forces her backwards, allowing me to quickly and brutally kill the walkers, with Carl's aid. Then its Carl who goes on the offensive:

"You _bitch_!" he hisses. Its rare that I hear Carl Grimes swear. Especially in such a venomous manner, but, at the moment, I have not the time nor the care to worry about his choice of words.

His gun is up at her head and I know he's only seconds away from shooting.

"Now is _not_ the time, Nat!" I snap, pointing my sword at her as if it were an accusing index finger.

She ignores us, crouches down, and lunges. Carl shoots his gun, but Nat's movements have become so erratic, that he misses, catching a distant walker in the kneecap, which causes it to explode in true gory fashion. Once again our swords connect and I'm forced to slide backwards due to the sheer force behind her swing. Carl is at my side in an instant, pointing his gun, point blank this time, at Nat and pulling the trigger. I fully expect to have her blood erupt onto me the moment the hammer hits the bullet, sending lead directly into her brain. But that moment never arrives. Instead, a heart clenching _CLICK_ emanates from the barrel.

Carl's ammo has finally hit zero.

Using this to her advantage, Nat raises her right leg, delivering a swift side-kick to Carl's gut, sending the young Grimes forcibly to the concrete road with a loud _THUD__._

"CARL?!" I shout with worry, wavering in my struggle against Nat's sword, which allows her to push me back a second time.

"I'd be more concerned with what's in front of you, Tanner!" Nat hisses, swinging her blade a third time.

I only barely manage to parry, but that is the least of our worries. More walkers have arrived and are quickly outnumbering us. This herd is truly endless. I disengage Nat, ducking to the right, placing me right next to Carl. Thrusting my sword tip straight forward, I manage to catch a walker that had gotten too close right in the skull, ending its undead state. Carl is, in the meantime, recovering from Nat's surprisingly effective kick, slowly making it back to his feet. Still only a few feet away, Nat crazily swings away at the walkers around her, easily dispatching them. Where is her insane amount of energy and stamina coming from? Had she been fighting like this the whole time we'd been apart? It is completely unreal to witness. She is almost as much a monster as the walkers themselves.

"I don't get you!" I shout over the starving grunts of the walkers, still marching through the area. "Are you really _that_ far gone, Nat?!"

"It doesn't matter anymore." she hisses back. "I'm going to kill you _and_ that pint-sized runt. You should've never come back, Tanner!"

I really don't have time to deal with her and her half-baked insanity. I still can't see Rick or Michonne and the walkers are only continuing to pour into the area from the trees in the distance. If Nat's group is alive, I can't see any of them either, and I know its only a matter of time before we're completely unable to deal with the large number of walkers roaming around the road. Behind me, Carl holsters his gun and pulls out his hunting knife, something given to him by Rick in the eventuality that he were to ever run out of ammunition. I huff angrily. Its unavoidable. If I want to get Carl and I to safety, away from all of this undead madness, we're going to have to deal with Nat first. So, having finally accepted this, I decide to make the first move. My shoes collide with the concrete again as I charge, building as much force as I can in my arm, before swinging. She parries reflexively and copies my attack, forcing me to parry as well. Never in my life, even with my obsession with swords as a kid, did I think that I would ever be having an actual sword fight in the heart of the Georgian countryside, while the road is being swarmed by the living dead. I'll say this: its not as fun as they make it seem in anime or those old time samurai movies. I narrowly manage to move my head in time for the tip of her weapon to slide past.

That is actually much worse news than one might think.

Her slash was but a feign, positioning me for a follow-up strike, which cuts the sling holding my useless left arm in place. Pain shoots through my arm, stunning my just long enough, for Nat to deliver a strong kick to my stomach. I feel the wind leave my lungs as I'm helplessly knocked backwards onto the road, landing directly on top of my left arm, which intensifies the pain tremendously. So much so, that I immediately cry out in agony. This attracts several of the walkers passing nearby, causing them to change course and head directly towards me. Unfortunately, there is no getting up for me at this point. The pain in my arm is crippling and, in the fall, I had dropped my sword, causing it to skid across the road, just barely out of my reach. My vision blurs in my suffering, only barely able to make out Nat's ominous figure approaching me, her own sword at her side.

_This is it,_ I think to myself.

Immobilized by pain, disarmed of my weapon, unable to reach for my other sword, and walkers closing in, I'm as good as dead the moment she reaches me. A sadistic grin curls across her face as she stands over me. In that moment, tears begin to swell in my eyes. What a cruel fate. Murdered and left to be devoured by the person who initially took you in. She raises her sword to deal the final blow, my tears overflowing and free falling down my cheeks she does, and then a spray of blood splashes across my face...

But it isn't my blood.

And then I see the source. A blade, just long enough to pass completely through her from its entry point in her spine, is jutting out of her stomach. The look on her face has gone from sadistic pleasure to a mixture of horror and pain. In the commotion, I hadn't noticed him moving, but somehow, Carl had gotten my dropped weapon and used it to impale Nat while she was solely focused on me. A gurgle emits from her throat as she spits up a large wad of blood. Seeming to realize the damage is done, Carl quickly withdraws the blade, tossing it to the roadside before running to my aid. In the meantime, I see Nat drop; first to her knees and then right on her face. I can see that she's still breathing, though it is coming in pained gasps now. Behind me, another splatter of blood paints across the road beside me, causing me to crane my head to see over my shoulders.

Michonne. Rick.

Michonne had decapitated two walkers, while Rick had stabbed the remaining approaching creatures with his own trench knife. Wordlessly, Carl slips his arm under my right arm and carefully lifts me to my feet. But I don't have enough time to thank him. The herd is still closing in around us.

"Come on!" Rick hurries us along, his voice hoarse and rough. "We gotta get outta here!"

Carl and I begin to walk, and though I can walk on my own, the pain in my arm is slowing me significantly, as it travels from the epicenter of the wound up my neck and even into the backs of my eyes. To make up for this, Michonne circles around the back of us, guarding our rear. I take one final pained look back only to see the walkers closing in around Nat. I'd be lying if I said that I felt any real satisfaction. Sure, she'd hurt Carl, damn near killed him, and that is something I could never forgive. But in the last moments, I couldn't see her for the person she had become, but rather, the kind woman who had soothed me after watching the military bomb Atlanta, or the concerned, motherly spirit who had sat with me day in and day out, trying to coax me out of my tent and to lay all my burdens on her. It seemed like an eternity ago, but it really wasn't, and I knew that part of me would never forget the kind woman she had once been. The walkers swarm her and the sprays of blood coming from their gruesome conglomeration confirm that her end has finally arrived. In the meantime, those walkers who couldn't reach her continued after us. Michonne silently approached me from behind, laying a hand on my good shoulder, before whispering:

"Let's go. There's nothing left to see."

And I knew she was right.

Carl was at my side the following instant, taking my wrist in his hand, giving me a knowing glance, and then he began to pull me along behind him.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

I hate _always_ being on the run.

Ever since we left the prison, be it walkers or some crazed lunatics we encounter, in the end, we're forced to keep running and hiding. Hours have passed since the road. Dad had lead us off the road and into the woods. Initially, that hadn't helped to deter the herd, but the further we went in, the thinner the number of walkers, until they stopped completely. Glancing over at my boyfriend, I notice just how distant he's become since the roadside. That crazy bitch, Nat, was dead. And I wasn't in the least bit sorry for it. I don't think Tanner was either, but her passing seems to have had as profound an effect on him, as reuniting with her had. I still had his wrist firmly in my grip, so I slip my hand down slightly. He loosens his fist, allowing me to slide my fingers between his, and lock our hands together in the process. His grip is loose, palms sweaty, and I can faintly feel his pulse beating.

"You okay?" I finally ask after some time.

He takes a moment, but then casts his gaze over to meet mine. His face is ghostly pale, pupils dilated, and blood, which had now dried, smeared across his nose and cheeks. To be totally honestly, he looks completely unhinged, much like I imagine I did after the prison fell.

"My arm hurts." he eventually replies, gesturing with his head towards his limp left arm.

"We'll find you another sling on the next run." I assure him, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I'd rather just cut it off." he replies immediately, causing me to gape at him. Was he _asking_ for an amputation? "Didn't you say that you guys cut off Hershel's leg? He survived that, didn't he? Besides, this arm just gets in the way. Its a target." he explains.

"We don't have near the supplies we need to maintain that." its Dad who speaks up, having clearly overheard us. "With Hershel, we had the leftover supplies from the prison's medical wing, and a whole lot of luck. We have neither of those things here."

"Besides," Michonne has a habit of picking up where Dad left off these days. "The herd is still relatively close. You'll need time to recover from an amputation. Time we simply don't have."

Dad nods his agreement and even I have to say that I agree with their logic. Tanner says nothing, though part of me suspects that he found their argument to be sound, and simply had let it drop. He wasn't the type to pursue arguments he knew he had no hope of winning. Finally, there is a break in the trees, revealing another road. Unlike the highway we had left, this road seemed completely abandoned; its only occupant being an abandoned little car that appeared to have been long-since looted.

"We should stick to the woods." Dad announces as we cross onto pavement once again. "More shelter there."

No one argues, so Dad continues across the road, regarding the stripped car with a passing glance before pushing into the adjacent row of trees. Our hike is uneventful, for the most part, and quiet. We all seem to be keeping to our own thoughts for the most part. Every now and then, I glance over at Tanner to make sure he's coming along okay. I shouldn't worry, because I know he's much stronger than he lets on, but I can't help but feel concern for him. He's usually the one trying to cheer _me_ up. Not the other way around. After a much shorter stretch of woods, there is another break in the trees, and, upon emerging from them, I can see a country club in the distance. First country club I had seen since the infection had hit. I watch Dad carefully, who seems to be surveying the building.

"Should we check it out?" I ask him.

"Wouldn't hurt." he replies, shrugging.

We approach the front door slowly, drawing our weapons so as not to be caught off guard by any lurking walkers. It feels weird not using my gun, but knife-fighting seems to be my only option until we obtain more ammunition. But I'm not the only one suffering from weapon issues. Tanner had lost his short sword during all of the insanity on the highway earlier, and was down to just his long sword, though he didn't seem particularly distressed by this. Dad rapidly slams on the front door, hoping that the loud noise will draw out any hidden walkers, alerting us to their presence. However, several moments pass and nothing turns up, so he kicks the door in and we begin the lengthy process of clearing each room. I've cleared many buildings since the infection hit. Mostly after Hershel's farm, when we were moving from house to house over the course of the winter, but even since the prison fell, I had cleared numerous houses and other buildings with my companions. From this experience, I knew the telltale signs of a building that had already been looted. For one, the contents of the rooms were strewn about, as if someone had been digging through them for anything of use. However, the biggest clue was the dead walkers, several of which had been stabbed in the head, and one particular corpse that looked as thought it had been beaten repeatedly in the head; perhaps by an enraged person. Dad seems to pick on this too.

"I don't think we're going to find anything here." he mentions in a hushed tone. "Let's check these last few rooms and be done."

Michonne disappears down one hallway, Dad down a second, and Tanner and I enter a room that looks to have once been a gift shop. To my surprise, there is merchandise still on the racks. Whoever had looted this place hadn't found much interest in the memorabilia being sold here. I couldn't blame them either. It was all ugly-looking clothing. I turned around to see Tanner's reaction to the place, but he seemed to be distracted by a figure propped up against the wall. Whatever it was, it was draped in some sort of sheet, but it had a distinctly human figure to it. I thought it could be a mannequin, given the nature of the gift shop, but Tanner, for some reason, is drawn to it.

"See what's underneath." I suggest, coming up beside him.

"I was about to." he replies absently.

Gripping the sheet with his good hand, Tanner swiftly pulls it off, letting it drop to the floor. Its a gruesome sight. A woman's body has been propped up, as if she were a display mannequin, against the wall of the small shop. To me, she didn't appear to have every once been a walker. Her body was almost mummified, as if she had died of some other cause, and then left to decompose. Additionally, she was lacking a head wound that would have indicated that she was once a walker. However, the most striking detail of this corpse was the sign hanging around her torso.

"**Rich Bitch**"

"Someone didn't like her." Tanner jokes dryly.

"Wonder who covered her up?" I add in.

Suddenly, Dad peeks his head around the corner at us, "Find anything useful?"

We both shake our heads.

"Then let's get going." he says. "Nothing more to find here."

We left the country club completely empty handed, which was unusual for us. Michonne tried to make light of the situation, however, clearly trying to brighten our collective abysmal moods.

"I was hoping to find some candy in there." she says with a slight smirk, glancing at me out of the corner of her eyes. "I could really go for a Snicker's right about now."

"Really?" Tanner speaks up. "I was hoping for some booze. Take the edge off."

I shoot him a rather incredulous look. Tanner did _not_ seem like the drinking type and even if he was, I was surprised he'd say something so bluntly right in earshot of Dad and Michonne. He glances at me knowingly and, for the first time since we were back at the barn, his face brightens up upon seeing the look I'm giving him.

"I'm kidding, Carl." he flashes me a wicked grin.

_There's the guy I love. _I think warmly to myself, merely shaking my head at him.

It had been hiding just underneath the surface, but some of the pain and confusion that had ruled him earlier in the day was beginning to come undone. On the other side of me, Michonne chuckles lightly to herself, clearly quite pleased that she had successfully managed to bring the seriousness of our silence down a few notches with her joking behavior. Wandering back into the woods, I glance up towards the treetops, noticing that the sun has finally begun to make its descent in the sky. Night was beginning its approach. However, I am suddenly distracted from that thought, as the strong odor of burnt wood fills my nostrils. Tanner is the next to catch the scent, his head suddenly jolting up, like a groundhog emerging from its burrow. Eventually, Michonne and Dad pick up on it too. Though none of us say anything, we're all on alert. Fire usually meant survivors, which meant there also could be walkers nearby. But, to my great relief, neither of those scenarios is the case. Instead, we emerge into a small clearing, and are immediately greeted with the sight of a burnt down shack. Michonne glances around at the surroundings, before her eyes widen with realization.

"I've been here before." she announces.

Dad, Tanner, and I merely glance at her, waiting for an explanation.

"Found this place with Daryl on a run once." she replies.

"How can you tell?" Dad asks.

I can see his point. The shack hasn't _completely_ burned down, but there isn't enough of it left to see any distinguishing markings. Still, Michonne gestures to a cluster of trees sitting towards the back of the clearing.

"I recognize the arrangement of some of the shrubs." she replied. "Looks like the place was burnt recently."

Dad nods in agreement, "Maybe a day or two at most. It still has that fresh burn smell to it."

Tanner catches my eye as he wanders around to the side of the burnt out husk, bending down near something laying not too far away from the wreckage. Curious, I follow him over, and crouch beside him. Its a walker. A dead walker, but a walker none the less. But the fact that it was a walker at one point wasn't what must have caught his eye, because he is now holding something in his hand, and when I see what he's holding, my heart skips a beat. Tanner is observing a bolt from a crossbow, still covered in dried walker blood. I know it sounds insane to get excited when the bolt could belong to just about anyone, but my heart is racing nevertheless.

"Where did you find that?!" I blurt out, startling him.

"It was stuck in the walker's shoulder." he replies, holding the bolt out for me to get a closer look. "There were others too, but they were in worse condition."

"Dad!" I shout, unaware of how loud my voice suddenly was.

Dad quickly shuffles over to us.

"Keep your voice down!" he scolds me, his own voice a mere whisper, though harsh at the same time. "Do you want to draw every walker in the county?!"

I ignore him and, instead, snatch the bolt from Tanner's hand, handing it over towards Dad so that he can see for himself. But the moment he sees it, his reaction is the same as mine. He furiously snatches the wooden bolt from my hand and Michonne peers over his shoulder to get a good look at it herself. Simultaneously, all three of us begin to grin like madmen, leaving Tanner to stare at us as though we had all just broken out of an insane asylum. Finally unable to handle being left out in the dark, Tanner questions me:

"What's so important about it?" he asks, genuinely confused.

I'm unable to contain the giddiness in my voice when I answer:

"Daryl."

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

The stars were out.

We had set up camp in the clearing for the evening. Michonne and Rick had both decided to take turns keeping watch throughout the night, giving Carl and I a chance to catch up on our sleep. Even so, I could feel the excitement that was building in all three of them. Though they all admit that the bolts could belong to anyone, even Michonne is convinced that they belong to Daryl Dixon, which suggests that he had somehow survived the fall of the prison. I think part of the reason Rick had set up camp here was the hope that, if they were right, Daryl would come back to this spot at some point. Carl and I settled in close to each other as we prepared for sleep that night. The ear-to-ear grin on his face was the happiest I'd seen him in days. It is contagious. Despite my earlier anxieties and the trip down memory lane I had taken, Carl's sudden happiness has made feel happy for him. Happy that he is finding hope.

"Do you think we can catch up to Daryl?" I ask him as he settles his chest against my stomach, both of us staring up at the stars. "If he's really out there, that is."

"It's him, Tanner." Carl replies, sure of himself. "And yeah, we can catch up to him without a doubt."

I smile at his enthusiasm.

"I have to admit. I'm a little nervous. Meeting _the_ Daryl Dixon." I say in jest. "After all the stories I've heard about him, I imagine he'd be a pretty scary guy."

Carl chuckles, "Daryl is one of those people you either like or hate right off the bat. There's no in between when it comes to him." he explains. "But I think you'll like him."

"If you say so." I snort, shifting just enough to free my right arm, wrapping it around his chest and giving him a light squeeze.

"If Daryl made it." he continues. "That means there could be others."

That is probably wishful thinking on Carl's part, but I'm not about to crush his hopes. Not when he seems to be so happy for once.

"If there are," I reply instead. "I'll help you find them."

Carl suddenly flips over on his stomach and flashes me, quite possibly, the biggest smile I'd ever seen him give. Seriously, it was bright enough to rival the sun itself. _Clearly_, that had been the _right_ choice of words. He says nothing, but wraps his arms around me and gives me a tight squeeze in true bear-hug fashion. In a way, it makes me hope that his friends really have survived. And, in that moment, I resolve to keep my promise to him. If there are any prison survivors out there, I will help him find them. For his sake. For his happiness. His grip begins to loosen, becoming more tender, as he speaks again:

"I'm sorry about..."

I stop him, knowing where he's about to go, "It had to happen." I reply, thinking back to Nat. "Besides, the Nat I knew died back in Atalanta. She would've never put you or I in danger. And you're far more important than her anyways."

He leans up slightly, casting a worried glance down at me. His eyes catch the moonlight and sparkle, which is a breathtaking sight to behold, causing me to grin at him.

"Don't worry," I reassure him, reading his thoughts. "I'll be okay. The fact that you're safe is all that matters to me."

He chuckles at this, "You worry about me too much."

Now its my turn to snicker, "Well, you give me a lot of reasons to worry, sometimes," and I flash him a joking grin, just so that he knows I'm only kidding.

He flips back around and resumes cuddling into me, his head now resting just beneath my chin. I again wrap my good arm around him and close my eyes in preparation for sleep. I'd better get some rest. It seems like, from here on out, our days are going to be filled with searches, so I need as much rest as I can get. I can feel Carl's breath even out as he too slips into dreamworld. And right before passing out myself, I manage to murmur:

"I love you... Carl."

* * *

**A/N: That's that :D Chapter 17. Hope it was a good read and enjoyable! Onto the reviews for the previous two chapters:**

**Obtained: Great catch! I love it when readers think objectively ;-; It warms my souls. Yes, you're absolutely right. It can risk infection, though to what degree depends on how contaminated the source of the water is. Here, I imagine it wouldn't be too much at risk, because most barn water-systems are connected to wells, so unless a walker fell into the well and contaminated the water, Tanner should be fine. But I love that you mentioned that, because, originally, I planned for Tanner to get infected in JUST that manner, and Nat was going to attack the barn while he was down and out. But, I couldn't resist some herd action, so I changed plans. Thank you for the question!**

**Guest: yes, them pesky walkers. Always showing up when they're not wanted.**

**NOxONE: I know _exactly_how you feel. Hopefully the show will build up plenty of potential for me to carry on through the break, when it does go on break. My plan, for the moment, is to end this story when they reach the Alexandria Safe-Zone, which is still a ways off. At that point, I'll consider a sequel, maybe. But plans change and I could always go longer. Point of saying all that is that there is still much more to come, so you can come get your TWD fix here during the show's break xD You have a nice weekend as well and thank you for the comments :)**

**Doctorates: Can I just say thank you? From the bottom of my heart. Constructive criticism is always welcome and thank you for the kind words. I'll answer your questions one at a time, and to the best of my ability. The reason Rick doesn't shoot immediately is two fold. One, you nailed on the head, Michonne had seen the herd on the move during her run and had alerted Rick. Therefore, Rick had an idea the size of the herd, and what would happen if he drew their attention. If he can get away with leaving without firing a shot, and therefore potentially bringing down an army of zombies on them, he'll do it. Because if the herd attacked (which it did anyways), they would become a much greater threat than Nat. The second is for dramatic effect. Nat is Tanner's villain in much the same way as the Governor was Rick's. Rick and the Governor were both leaders who took opposite routes in their handling of their groups. For Tanner and Nat, they both survived the same incident, Tanner came out the better person, while Nat snapped and became rather psycho. For that reason, I didn't want Rick to have the kill. It wouldn't make sense in the plot, would've been largely anticlimactic, and would've made her death rather meaningless. I gave Carl the kill because the secret meaning behind this "Nat mini-arc" was showing Tanner facing the demons of his past, and Carl killing her was my way of showing that Carl is as much Tanner's shelter from this new world as Tanner himself was for Carl in the first story arc. A lot of times in a fictional plot, you have to ignore what would've been the most sensible option, which would've been Rick shooting her on sight, for the sake of tying up loose ends and bringing your story full circle. And while Carl's weaknesses and Tanner's strength showed through in the first arc, it is Tanner whose weakness is on display and Carl's strength I needed to show this time. But I agree with you. In real life, were I in Rick's shoes, I'd have torn her limb from limb without hesitation lol! **

**Lastly, as to the present/past tense switches; I'm going to be honest. I've been writing fanfiction for years, but only in third person, and only in the past tense. This is literally my first first-person, present-tense viewpoint story, mainly because that was the only way, in my mind, this story would work and come across so well. As a result though, I have trouble breaking my habit of wanting to write in past tense. If I catch myself, I correct it, but sometimes I don't notice it until much, much later. I am trying to improve though, so hopefully it will get better as time goes on! Thank you for pointing that out though. I can understand how that might be frustrating! Thank you for the review and the questions!**

**Wow, really, thank you all. I appreciate hearing from you! Keep 'em coming folks!**

**Until the next chapter!**

**Later.**


	18. Intermission

Morning arrives a little too soon for my tastes. I go to move, but a very sleepy Carl Grimes, still snoring cutely on my chest, is preventing me from sitting. His signature sheriff's hat is leaning awkwardly on the other side of my torso where it had fallen off his head sometime during the night. I chuckle lightly to myself. He certainly seems to be making himself right at home. I gently run my fingers through his coarse, filthy long hair, careful not to be hard enough to wake him. Somewhere to the side of me, I can hear voices talking silently amongst themselves. Seems I wasn't the only one up. Indeed, upon straining to crane my head to where I can see more clearly, I make out the figures of Rick and Michonne over by the burnt down shack, chatting about God-knows-what. I'm in no hurry to get up and find out what they're talking about, however, enjoying my quiet time with Carl, so I close my eyes as I continue to stroke his hair softly. Its not completely as comfortable as I make it sound. Though we had makeshift sleeping bags to sleep on, made from sheets Michonne had found on her run the previous day, they did little to protect against the hard, cold earth, which meant that my back was incredibly sore and stiff. Carl, by far, had the better deal; having used by chest as a pillow. To make matters even more uncomfortable, my useless arm was throbbing this morning, which, again made me wish I could amputate it.

The leaves crunch near my head, causing my eyes to snap open.

To my relief, its only Michonne approaching, and not a walker as I had feared.

"You two gonna sleep all morning?" she asks bluntly, grinning slightly at me.

I chuckle, "If only." I gently nudge Carl, who grumbles at the unwelcome disturbance to his slumber. "Come on, knucklehead. You're giving me a cramp."

Carl, very sleepily, raises his head, glancing first at me and then up at Michonne. The look on his face tells me that he is _anything_ but pleased to be awake, but, nevertheless, he makes no complaint and gradually sits up, allowing me to do the same. Getting to my feet is even worse, because, as I discover, my legs are as stiff as my back is, which makes the experience particularly painful. I stretch to work out some of the issues and then yawn rather loudly.

"What's the plan for today?" I ask Michonne casually as I watch Carl doing his own morning stretches.

Her eyes wander off to the ground, specifically her feet, before she responds, "A run." she says plainly. "Even with what I brought back yesterday, we have almost nothing. After that-"

"We hunt for Daryl." Carl's gruff morning voice startles both Michonne and myself. "Right?"

"Well..." she starts to explain, but trails off as Rick approaches.

"We keep our eyes on the goal." Rick finishes for her. "Terminus."

Carl's sleepiness wears off instantly, turning into full rage in five seconds flat.

"_What_?!" he exclaims.

I unconsciously take a step back at Carl's sudden anger-induced snarl, accidentally backing into Michonne in the process. She gives me a forgiving look. If anyone understands how I feel on these occasions, its Michonne: you do _not_ get between Rick and Carl when they start getting angry, especially at each other. And so we both stay to the side, watching the argument as it unfolds.

"Dad, if Daryl is alive we _need_ to find him." Carl insists, anger rising in his voice.

"And we don't know for sure that this is really Daryl." Rick retorts, clearly not pleased at his judgement being challenged by his son yet again. "Our best bet is to head to Terminus. It'd be best not to deviate from our plans."

"What do you mean we're not sure its Daryl?" Carl's voice cracks. "Who else do you know that uses a crossbow?"

Rick glances angrily at Michonne and then back to his equally enraged son, "Just because those bolts were crossbow bolts doesn't mean that Daryl is the one shot them." Rick's voice, like Carl's, is climbing. "And I'm not risking your life, _our_ lives, chasing after a whim."

Carl has no immediate response, but I can tell he's thinking of one. His face is now completely red and he's practically shaking with rage. I glance at Michonne for help, but all she can offer is a shrug. Neither of us are about to step in between them and try to break them up, but at the same time, we both don't take great pleasure in seeing them argue. Least of all me. Even though, being an outsider who has never met Daryl, I can see Rick's point of view, I can also see Carl's, because if he and I got separated and I found a clue he might be alive, not even the gates of Hell could stop me from finding him. Carl suddenly huffs out loud and begins to storm past Michonne and I back towards where we had been sleeping, but not before muttering just loud enough for Rick to hear it:

"He would've gone looking for _you_."

It has its intended effect.

Rick is completely speechless as Carl continues to charge off into the distance. And then, for reasons I'll never understand, Michonne starts to speak up:

"He's right, you know." she says in a low tone, I guess so that Carl can't hear her.

"Are you helping me?" Rick snaps, still furious.

Michonne purses her lips and places both hands on her hips, "I agree with your reasoning." she continues. "But I also see his point. That's all I'm saying."

Regardless, that isn't the answer Rick is looking for, and he angrily storms off in the opposite direction. Hands still on her hips, Michonne throws me a frustrated glance, shaking her head. I give her a half smile, as if to say that I understood her irritation, and then we both wordlessly turn to go deal with our respective Grimes. I find Carl standing a short distance away from our sheets, arms folded, still visibly angry, underneath a cluster of trees. I know he can hear me approaching him, even though he makes no indication of it, because I'm making quite a lot of noise by crunching through the leafs. Thinking on my feet, I carefully wrap my good arm around his waist and pull him to me. He's stiff to my touch, but he doesn't resist me.

"Are you gonna be mad at me too?" I ask him, resting my chin on his head.

He huffs angrily.

"We should be searching for Daryl." he completely ignores my question. "What is Dad thinking?!"

There are two possible ways to answer this question. I could be sensible and say that Rick was only looking out for him, and the rest of us, by not wanting to risk lives chasing what could be a false lead. _Or _I could just stay quiet and nod my head understandingly. Given that he'd probably eat me alive if I chose the first option, I went with the second. Much safer. I squeeze him gently, a small way of letting him know I'm there, even though I don't exactly have the words to ease his discomfort.

"If its any comfort to you." I suddenly speak up. "Michonne agrees with you."

Carl snorts, half angrily and half in jest at this, "Of course she did. She and Daryl... Well, they were close."

I nod again, "Understandable."

Carl suddenly breaks my embrace, turning around to face me. His look is serious and contemplative. Its the same look he always gives me when he's about to ask me a challenging question, which makes me wish I had just stuck to my plan and kept my big mouth shut.

"What do _you_ think?" he asks.

_Shit. I can never just stay neutral on these things, can I?_

"I promised you I'd help you find your friends if they were alive, didn't it?" I say, remembering my promise from the night before. "That's what I intend to do."

He doesn't respond verbally to this, but instead wraps his arms around my waist and buries his head into my chest. The hug is all the answer I need. Clearly the answer he was looking for. And I meant it. As much as I hated defying Rick, particularly on issues that made sense, I hated more to break my word to Carl. I return his hug, wrapping my arm back around him, and plant a gentle kiss on his head.

"But first," I tell him. "We need to go on this run. Michonne is right. We hardly have anything."

He nods into my chest and after a few more seconds of just holding each other in the silence, we head off to rejoin the adults.

####

I'm not exactly certain where we are any longer.

I know that our eventual destination is Macon, Georgia, which is now supposedly being called Terminus and, from the maps I had seen Rick and Michonne using to plot our course, I can determine that we are somewhere directly in between there and Atlanta, but otherwise, everything just looks the goddamn same. Trees, trees, and more trees. Rick is almost certain that there is a settlement located somewhere along the road we're currently on, which is where he plans to conduct his hunt for supplies. Carl's mood hasn't improved one bit, but, in his defense, neither has Rick's. The father-son duo haven't so much as glanced at each other since their argument and Michonne and I have taken to walking between them as a preventive for further arguments. But, just because our Grimes companions aren't speaking doesn't keep the two of us from chatting. I'd grown rather fond of Michonne over the past month since we'd met. Though she was much older than me, her demeanor combined with the way she is around me makes her easy to talk to. In fact, though I was the oldest sibling in my family, I imagine the way I am with her would be akin to having an older sister. She wasn't afraid to pick on me when I left myself open for it, to lighten the mood or offer advice when I needed it, and yes, sometimes, even scold me when I got too ahead of myself.

And so that's how we ended up in our current situation, chatting about whatever popped into our heads, while we allowed Carl and Rick to fume quietly to themselves:

"What were you going to school for when-" she's asking me. "Well, when this all happened?"

I glance up at the sky, trying to recall what seems to be an eternity ago, as well as an entirely different world, "Pre-med." I reply after a few moments. "I wasn't sure _what_ exactly I wanted to do at that point, but I knew I wanted it to be medical."

She raised an eyebrow at me, offering me a cheeky smirk, "Tanner. _You_, a doctor?"

She tries to sound like its _sooo _unbelievable, which is amusing. It almost _is_ unbelievable after all the shit that's happened since then.

"I liked Science in high school. Was really good at it too. Bite me." I reply, flashing her a joking grin.

"Nah," she retorts, suddenly sounding much too mischievous. "Besides, looks like you've already got someone who can do _that_ for you."

She mutters the last sentence under her breath, still grinning ear-to-ear, but I hear her anyways and feel my face go from zero to a hundred degrees in the same moment. Rick doesn't seem to hear, still lost in his own thoughts, but Carl, who is somewhat alert, hears it and nearly chokes on his own saliva. Michonne seems quite satisfied with her work and goes silent. We cut the chatter following that, continuing to follow the highway, until finally I start to notice signs of civilization. Namely, litter and abandoned vehicles. Rick finally snaps from his daze and begins his usual spiel:

"Remember," he's saying, mainly to Carl and I. "Grab any non-perishables, ammunition, and anything else you think we may need."

We nod.

"Oh, and try to stay out of trouble."

He begins to walk off, Michonne waving to us before taking off after him. I let Rick's patronizing remark roll off my shoulders, figuring that he is still just a bit peeved from the argument this morning. Carl, however, is furious once again, and proceeds to storm off up the road, where I can see buildings starting to rise up over the treetops. I follow behind Carl, watching him quietly, but not following close enough to invade his personal space. Better to let him cool off before I work my usual magic. Finally, just as we reach the edge of town, I sigh and take a gamble:

"We should look for some more comfortable bedding while we're here." I mention out of the blue.

He looks back at me with a look that would've made you think I'd said the most offensive thing in the world. Perhaps I'd spoken too soon. He shakes his head.

"What?" I ask jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. "Its not that I don't just_ love_ those paper-thin sheets we were on last night, but I'd rather wake up without a hernia."

He stops dead in his tracks and glares at me, "How are you not pissed?" he barks angrily. "He's been treating us both like brats since this morning!"

I sigh out loud, "Yes. He has been in a rather foul mood." I admit. "But he'll get over it. Just relax. We have the next few hours to ourselves. Don't let him ruin that."

Carl's expression softens, his eyes still as intense as before, but he doesn't look as though he's about to fly into a murderous rage anymore. I approach him and slip my arm around his waist. He simply continues to stare at me, as if trying to figure out what I'm going to do before doing something himself. His eyes almost seem to glow in the shadows produced by his hat, which is particularly enjoyable for me to see.

"Besides," I say to him, squeezing gently. "We _do_ kinda have the tendency to get into some fucked up situations when its just the two of us."

His enraged demeanor completely collapses at that point, turning into a fit of quite audible giggles, and when his gaze returns to mine, he's beaming.

"Can't argue with that." he replies with a grin.

Please with myself, I give him one more affectionate squeeze and then break our embrace. We continue walking into town, and I constantly am surveying the horizon for walkers. Cities like these seem to be magnets for them and with the herd still somewhere in the woods around us, I didn't want to take any chances of being caught off guard. Carl spots a sporting good's store in the distance and suggests that we begin our hunt for supplies there, which I can't argue with that. Its as good a place as any to start. The glass that once made up the windows of the rather large store was scattered around everywhere along the sidewalk surrounding the building. We each stepped carefully over them, trying not to crunch the glass and draw the attention of any hidden walkers. Upon entering the store, the light filters in from above, revealing the condition it is in. Similar to most stores we've encountered on our journey, this one is quite visibly looted. The racks have been overturned, merchandise still littering the floor. Carl grabs a nearby clothes hanger and starts to walk ahead of me.

"First thing's first." he announces, rapidly banging the hanger against a large metal rack.

The noise is deafening in the abandoned building and, sure enough, the familiar hiss of death reanimated comes from several places throughout the store. Its only a few walkers, though, so Carl and I both split up and dispatch them, before rejoining in front of the fitting room at the center of the store's apparel section.

"See anything you fancy?" I ask him with a smirk, gesturing to the surrounding clothing.

"A few." he nods casually, glancing around at the selection himself.

"Well, go grab a backpack or two from over there." I indicate to an endcap, not to far from us, with three backpacks hanging loosely from its hangers. "We need some new clothes anyways."

He disappears behind the racks and returns several moments later, carrying two backpacks. A larger one for himself and a single-strap variation for me; to accommodate for the fact that I can't use my other shoulder. We split up again and begin tossing articles of clothing that we thought might fit us into our respective bags. I got a little too zoned out doing this, because when I finally came back to reality, having packed a reasonable amount of clothes in my bag, I turned around to find Carl changing clothes... in the middle of the store. And for the second time that day, my cheeks are completely on fire.

"What?!" he exclaims when he catches me staring. "I wanted to change clothes! My other ones were starting to stink."

"Oh, I'm not complaining." I reply, snapping my backpack shut, and then returning my glance to him; grinning mischievously.

He completely stops moving when I start to approach him, looking absolutely adorable as he does. He's still holding his shirt in one hand, having yet to put it on, his hat is hanging on a nearby rack, and his jeans are around his ankles. In fact, the only visible clothing he's still wearing is his shoes and white briefs. I feel a quite definitive hardening in my lower extremities, but, since we're alone for the moment, it doesn't particularly bother me. Carl and I hadn't done anything overly sexual since the barn and even then it was nothing too extreme. But, the little voice in my head who always seems to show up when he's least wanted, tells me that is about to change. Carl seems to know what I'm up to, because he closes his eyes expectantly upon seeing me approach, craning his head upwards just enough so that his lips are within reach when I finally reach him. And when I kiss him, its hard. Harder and more passionate than any I'd shared with him in quite sometime. His tongue invades like a probe and in less than a minute, I have managed to loose my shirt and shoes. Much to my protest, however, he abruptly stops and puts his hand on my chest, indicating for me to do the same.

"Wait," he says as I groan.

"What is it?"

"Its just..." he trails off, gathering his thoughts. "We're in the middle of the store. What if Dad or Michonne come looking for us."

I roll my eyes. He's far too modest sometimes. I seize him around the wrist and start to drag him towards the dressing rooms behind us.

"Where are we going?" he asks curious, though he doesn't make any attempt to break my hold.

"You want privacy?" I reply, practically kicking down one of the dressing room doors. "Here we go."

He grins devilishly at me and I notice his pupils expanding. He wants this just as much as I do. And _that_ is a major turn on. I pull the door shut behind us and latch the lock. I briefly glance around at our accommodations. There is a cushioned bench on the far wall, a couple of discarded clothing items littering the floor, and a mirror on the side wall. Still gripping his wrist, I start for the bench, gently shoving him onto it upon arriving. He doesn't protest, though he does seem somewhat intrigued by my sudden display of dominance. I, myself, must admit that its rare for me to take charge of such situations. I usually leave that to Carl, since he does such a good job of it, but today, for some reason, I decide to take matters into my own hands... or hand. Once again, I'm hovering over him, lips pressed for a second time against his. He's returning my kiss just as eagerly and even takes to biting the edge of my mandible, which is only serving to increase my arousal. Carl always seems to know exactly what buttons to press. I don't stay there for too long, however, quickly trailing kisses down his exposed neck, chest, and stomach. I make short work of his briefs, not taking the usual time I would to slowly deflower him, and toss them aside like a used up rag.

His manhood is standing proudly between his legs. Glancing up, I can see that he's watching me rather intently, but, other than the sound of his labored breath, he makes no other vocalizations. So I proceed. Placing my one good hand firmly on his bare hip, my head dips down, mouth enveloping his length, and his head drops back. He let's out a sharp gasp, a sound I have very much begun to enjoy, as I set to work bobbing my head up and down. I have to give myself credit. I'd definitely improved at this, compared to our first time. I was far less clumsy, much more confident, and I was beginning to learn which things he liked me to do and which one's he'd rather steer away from. For example, I'd learned that if I flicked my tongue right up underneath the head of his manhood, he'd make that gasp I loved so much, completely with a full body shiver that brought goosebumps to the surface of his skin. Fuck, he was hot. Another little trick I'd learned was that I could take most all of him in at once, pushing him all the way to the back of my throat, passed my gag reflex and hold him there in the tight warmth of that cavity, until I could no longer breathe, at which point I release him. It doesn't take me long to work him into a frenzy and before long, he's controlling the rhythm with his hips. If that weren't enough indication that he was enjoying it, the cute whimpers that are escaping his throat certainly are. I know he's close when his eyes clamp shut, upper row of teeth biting down on his lower lip, because that's the only warning he's ever given me in the past. And, sure enough, a split second later, warm, musky, saltiness is coating the inside of my throat. He holds my head painfully in place until he's finished and then relaxes completely, allowing me to release him.

I give him a moment to catch his breath.

He's completely spent, face splotched with red, pupils still wide, and sweat beginning to form along his hairline.

Once I'm sure he's fine, I decide to finally try something I'd never done myself before. I grab his legs, one at a time, and lift them up onto my shoulders. The bench is at the perfect elevation for this. I think he catches on to what I'm about to do, because his eyes are suddenly filled with uncertainty. Usually, our situations were reversed when it came to this part of our love making.

"Don't worry," I soothe him, wiping away some of the sweat that's now dripping down his face. "I'll be gentle."

He searches my expression for a moment and then nods slowly.

Permission granted, I gather up as much saliva as I can muster and spit into my hand, moving my fingers down until they slide against the warmth of his entrance. This is his first time having _anything_ inserted there, so I'm gentle, sliding only one finger in at first and gently massaging the inside of him. I'm instantly amazed at how warm and tight around my finger he is. At first, like I was on our first time, I can tell that he is experiencing a little discomfort, so I ease up anymore. And then my finger slips over a bundle of nerves that I wasn't aware I was near and Carl nearly has another orgasm right then and there, his entire body going into a spasm. At least now I know where to aim. Once I'm sure he is sufficiently loosened, I undo the button on my cargoes, pushing both them and my boxers down in one push. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, I line myself up with him as I had seen him do on two previous occasions, pressed myself against his hole, and, with a little push, slipped inside.

I'm pretty sure the noise we both made after that entry would've drawn walkers if there were any left in the store.

_Now_ I could see why Carl liked doing this so much. As warm as he was around my finger, he felt ten times warmer around my intrusive member, and moist. Deliciously moist. I had never known a physical sensation so blissful. It was so overpowering, I nearly blacked out right there inside of him, though I finally manged to reign myself back in. Glancing down at him, I notice just how red Carl had turned. He almost looked sunburned. It was too cute, and I couldn't resist the urge to bend down and lock my lips with his. I slowly begin to push myself deeper inside of him, distracting him from the initial discomfort by courting his tongue with my own. Eventually, my length rubs over the familiar lump of his prostate, and Carl groans into my mouth. And his groan causes me to groan. His feet, which still have both shoes on them, slip down from atop my shoulders, where they have been, wrapping around my waist lightly - the same signal I give him to proceed, and so, with his permission again granted, I begin to pick up my pace a little at a time. However, try as I might, I simply can't control myself once I push past the point of no return, completely becoming lost in the sensations that are flowing through me, like waves in the ocean. With one final thrust into him, I bite back a scream as I come inside of him. I couldn't have timed it more perfectly, because the sudden final actions rub Carl's prostate one final time, causing him to roll into his second orgasm of the afternoon.

Finally finished, I wearily slip myself out of him.

Though, as tired as I was, he seemed to be more exhausted. I smiled at how cute his "worn out" face looked, kneeling down to kiss him affectionately on the cheek, which made him muster up his best smile. Eventually, enough of our stamina returns, allowing us to return to where we had left our clothes, and dress in the silence. Unable to help myself, I release a string of chuckles once I finally pull my shirt back over my torso.

"What?" he asks, smiling contently at me; he has, himself, only just finished getting his jeans back on.

"That was kinda kinky." I grin at him. "Never thought I'd be having sex in a dressing room."

Carl blushes madly, but laughs anyways.

We finish dressing silently and then both retrieve our backpacks.

"C'mon," I tell him once we finally get everything together. "My dad used to take me shopping in a place just like this when I was little. I think I know where they keep the ammo, assuming there's any left."

He nods and smiles at me, surprising me when he comes aside of me, grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. Clearly, that's my indication to lead the way. And so, smiling almost as big as he is, I take off in the direction of the gunbar.

####

An hour passed.

Carl and I had filled our bags as full as we could get them; mostly with ammunition we'd found in one of the storerooms inside the store, but we'd also discovered several cases of water, as well as some dehydrated backpack foods, likely used for camping at one point, and stuffed as much of it inside our bags as we could possibly fit. But, more than anything, I was excited about the sleeping bags we had found. Carl had to carry both of them, since I only had one arm to use, but we still managed to make it out of the store with all of our junk. Now we were back outside in the open, waiting near the edge of town where we had split from Rick and Michonne, waiting for the duo to return with their own spoils. Carl's mood had drastically improved thanks to my earlier "intervention". It warms my heart to see him acting happy again.

"So I've been thinkin'," I say, leaning up against a nearby stop sign. He's sitting on the curb right beneath me.

"Hm?"

"We should go on a date sometime." I grin as I watch his head snap around, shooting me an incredulous look. "Just the two of us."

"And exactly _how_ do you suppose we go about that?" Obviously I was going to have to make him a believer.

I chuckle, "I mean once we settle down for awhile. Maybe at Terminus. Nothing fancy, just slip away for a night, and be alone. Grab some food, find a place to stare at the stars; you know? Sappy shit like that."

Carl shakes his head at me, still somewhat grinning, "I don't think we're in a world that is exactly suited for old-fashioned dating." he scoffs.

"Oh?" I prod at his shoulder with my index finger jokingly. "Are you saying you're too old to go on a date with me, Carl? Ouch." I mock being offended, topping it off by gripping the part of my chest where my heart lie beating.

"No!" he exclaims. "It's just..."

"Oh, stop being such a buzzkill." I snap, ruffling his hair playfully. He hates when I do that. "Just 'cuz the world has pretty much ended, doesn't mean we can't enjoy what time we have together."

He goes silent for a moment.

"You're right..." he groans.

_Victory!_

"Of course I am." I chuckle, crossing my arms and sticking my nose high in the air in true arrogant fashion. "Don't worry about a thing. Just leave all the planning to me."

And just as I finish saying that, Michonne and Rick come into view, carrying several bags of their own. It seems Carl isn't the only one who's mood has improved. Rick is sporting a smile, as is Michonne, which means the walk out of town _may_ just be bearable. As she approaches me, Michonne holds up something she had brought with her from her run. A new sling! That's not usually something I would be excited about, but this arm is really starting to become a pain in the ass. At least this will lighten the burden a tad. She tosses it to Carl and he immediately sets to work putting my arm into it, just as he had with my first sling.

"Any luck?" I ask Michonne once the final button is latched in place.

"Mostly food. No ammo though. Looks like most of it was already looted."

I flash a grin at Carl, knowing that the adults would be rather pleased with our find.

"How about you?" its Rick this time.

Swinging my backpack down with my good arm, I unlatch the satchel and open it up for both of them to see. Both Rick and Michonne's faces brighten up upon seeing the contents. Compared to them, Carl and I had definitely hit the jackpot.

"Where'd you find all that?" Michonne questioned, still smiling.

"Thank Carl." I reply, latching the pack shut, and stepping back over behind my boyfriend. "He spotted a sporting goods store. Found it all there."

"You're the one that found the ammo, though." he points out.

Like I said. Too modest.

"Well, whatever the case," Rick speaks up. "You both did a good job."

"So," Carl interjects. "What's the plan now?"

_Uh-oh._

Here we go. If Carl decides to push Daryl again, its likely to explode into a second argument, which will ruin our newfound good mood. However, Rick responds in a way that I had totally not expected:

"We found another sign." he explains. "For Terminus. We know where the tracks are now, so we'll follow them."

Carl, I can see, starts to tense up, but Rick's not done speaking.

"We'll keep an eye out for Daryl along the way." he continues, drawing a surprised smile from Carl. "If he's seen the signs, that's where he'll head."

Carl nods enthusiastically and I sigh in relief. Crisis adverted.

"Now, let's get a move on." Rick picks up his backpack and Carl and I do the same.

With nothing more than a grin between us, we walk side-by-side towards the town's exit, where the tracks were located. And for the first time since the church with Nat, I feel at peace. We'd surely reach Terminus now. And, with any luck...

We'd find Daryl...

* * *

**A/N: So? How was it? Good chapter? I hope so! Sunday's TWD gave me all kinds of ideas and was a very good episode overall. Poor Beth :( I was really looking forward to writing her reuniting with the others. Hopefully she stays alive. Anywho, comment, follow, favorite and let me know what you think peeps! I'll answer reviews on the next chapter. Also, side note, this is officially the final chapter of the mini-arc revolving around Nat. Even though she died last chapter, and is only mentioned once here, this kinda wraps up the plot for that arc. Onto the next one!**

**Enjoy!**

**Later.**


	19. Separated

The herd was getting more ambitious.

We were sticking to the railroads as Rick had suggested, but that wasn't always a guarantee of safety. Twice now, we'd had to deviate from our original course to hide from the large pack of walkers that was continuing to grow in size and tenacity as the days went by. As if that weren't bad enough, we had passed at least three more Terminus-related signs, all which indicated that the supposed "safe zone" was still a considerable distance from where we were. Nevertheless, the thought that Daryl may be out there kept Carl moving, and so I was right behind him.

This particular day, we'd arrived at a crossroad, where a small state route crossed over the tracks. As with any intersection we'd see until this point, there was yet another sign for Terminus hanging on a nearby post. Rick decided to stop for an our or two and allow us to catch our breath. Carl and I immediately took the opportunity to get off the gravel-paved rail tracks and seek shelter from the overbearing Georgia heat underneath some of the trees lining the road. I slid down against one of the larger trees, my legs finally getting some sweat relief after another long day of walking. Carl sat directly beside me, leaning into me. Ever since our little fling in the dressing room of that sporting goods store a few days ago, I was beginning to notice that he always had to be in some manner of physical contact with me whenever we got a chance. Things as simple as just standing close enough for our shoulders to touch, or when we ate, he would sit close enough to me that our legs would rest against one another. I couldn't decide if he was doing it consciously or if I was just being too observant, but either way, I found it sweet and certainly didn't mind the attention he was paying me.

"I really wish we had a car about now." I groan, breaking the silence. "The gravel on those damn tracks are tearing my feet up."

Carl chuckled and rolled his eyes at me, "Then walk _beside_ the tracks, dummy." he joked.

"And look like a sissy? Please." I retort, equally in jest.

We both go silent and he slowly leans back, resting the back of his head just under my chin, against my neck. Embracing the moment, I slip my hand around his waist and clasp one of his hands. A breeze rolled through the trees, causing our long hair to blow gently along with it. Over by the tracks, I can see Rick and Michonne watching us, every now and then making undecipherable comments to one another. Its highly unnerving and I want to hurl a small rock at them and tell them to stop. Instead I simply sigh, out loud, and relent, resting my chin on top of Carl's head while giving his waist a squeeze. Now that I thought about it, Rick had scarcely seen us interact romantically at all. We kept that stuff as far out of his sight as possible, aside from the occasional holding of the hands. I don't even think he knew we were kissing. And he sure as hell didn't know any of the _other_ things we had done. As I quietly observe him observing us, it dawns on me that he is probably still feeling uncomfortable about my relationship with Carl, even if he never outright said it. I couldn't blame him, though. After all, he had handled it a lot better than my own father would've.

I shutter to think of how _he_ would've reacted.

My thoughts are cut short by Michonne's approach. That was another thing I had noticed. Whenever Rick made a decision, it was always Michonne who filled me in. Almost as though Rick either didn't want to, or felt too awkward doing so himself. But I'm not about to complain. Though I genuinely respect Rick Grimes, Michonne is much easier to be around and to talk to.

"We're gonna stay here through the night." she announces, causing Carl to stir in my embrace to see who is speaking. "Sun's already setting, so we don't have much light left."

"I saw some buildings over the trees." I mention. "Perhaps we could actually get a normal bed tonight?"

I was hopeful. The new sleeping bags Carl and I had gotten from our last run were an amazing improvement from the sheets we had been using before that, but it seemed to me that if we had a choice between actual beds and sleeping outside, the beds would be a no brainer.

"Rick was thinking the same thing." Michonne replies. "Doesn't want to risk the herd moving through on us while we're outdoors."

That was a valid point and one I hadn't thought off. So far, we had managed to avoid any dangerous confrontations with the herd, but if they neither needed sleep nor food to maintain their endless march. Eventually they will catch up with us, and if its at night, when we're off guard, the results could be fatal. Carl returns his head to my chest and continues his peaceful dozing while Michonne returns to Rick. It begins to dawn on me that I'm going to miss this in Terminus, which is an odd thing to say. The four of us, as Michonne had once put it, have become quite a "pack" and, if Terminus turns out to be a safe-zone as it is purported to be, there could be large amounts of people again. After almost a year and a half on the road alone and a little over a month with Carl, Rick, and Michonne, getting used to people again was going to be... an adjustment. And while I was certainly no fan of running for our lives from the herd or some crazed group of survivors, I had to admit to secretly harboring a hope that the four of us would find some place safe and live out the rest of our lives together.

A misplaced hope, I know, but a hope nonetheless.

Eventually, Rick summons us to begin the trek into the neighborhood, forcing me to wake Carl from his cat nap, which, in and of itself, was disappointing. I do so enjoy cuddling with him while he's sleeping; something I'll never admit out loud, for pride reasons, but will admit to myself at the very least.

Its a short walk and I'm immediately struck with a feeling of nostalgia. The neighborhood we haven chosen to seek refuge in for the night was oddly reminiscent of the one I had met Carl in. There were some differences, yes, the main of which being the cleanliness of the streets. Cleanliness being a loose term, but compared to some of the other settlements I'd seen in my time on the road, it was clean. Rick selected a small house, close enough to see the tracks from, and we moved quickly to move our stuff in. The house is devoid of walkers, which I find to be a relief. Truth be told, I was much too exhausted to deal with the undead.

"Looks like we get our own room tonight." I mention to Carl as we explore one of the upper hallways.

He smiles softly at me.

It definitely was a nice thing to have. Warm bed, boyfriend, and some alone time. In the old world, I knew a bunch of people that would've taken all three for granted. But when you live on the basis of "you can die at any moment", you start to appreciate the simpler things in life. At least I certainly did. After completely unpacking, Rick and Michonne set out to sett traps outside for any walkers that may come by during the night. Carl and I set out to explore the neighborhood in the meantime, though it doesn't take us long to find something to entertain ourselves with. Only a few houses down is a basketball goal standing in the driveway of one of the homes. Upon immediate inspection of the surroundings, I notice two basketballs, still in relatively good condition all things considered, leaning up against the side of the house.

"Wanna play?" I ask him with a smirk, snatching one of the balls.

He stares at me, almost as if uncertain I'd actually said that, "Are you serious?" he finally says.

"No, I just like to hear myself talk." I retort sarcastically, tossing the ball at him.

He catches it reflexively, staring down at it before returning his stare to me.

"What?" I ask him, suddenly realizing there is more to this situation than I'd initially perceived. "Don't tell me..."

But his look says it all.

His eyes dip down to stare at the ball in his hands until they're hidden by the hem of his hat. That's all the confirmation I need.

"You've never learned to play basketball, have you?" I ask, genuinely surprised by this.

His head comes up slightly, just enough for me to make out his eyes under the hem of his hat. He slowly, almost shamefully, shakes his head "no".

I nearly fall over. Who hasn't learned to play _basketball_? Then again, I have to remind myself that Carl was twelve when this all happened. Regardless, one would think that after twelve years the kid would have learned a sport of some manner. I shake myself of my incredulous gaze, scratching my head, trying to figure out what to do. Glancing up at the sky, I can see that the sun is only just now starting to lower itself over the tops of the houses. That means we still have sunlight for awhile longer. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea if I...

I sigh, smirking at him in the process, "Well, I'm no pro myself, but I can teach you a game at the very least."

Truthfully, basketball wasn't my sport. I had played in middle school, but was terrible at it. In fact, I hadn't been particularly skilled in _any_ sport I had participated in as a child. Baseball, basketball, and I had outright refused to play football, much to my father's dismay. I was more of a bookworm back in those days. That being said, I had picked up a thing or two from the sports that I _did_ play, and it wasn't like I was planning on teaching Carl how to play professionally or anything. Just a simple game will do.

He raises an eyebrow at me and I follow his line of sight to find that he's staring at my injured arm.

"Oh, I'll be fine." I scoff, waving him off. "I only need one arm for this game."

He shrugs and begins to walk over towards me.

"Is it really okay for us to be doing this?" he asks me, rather seriously, as he approaches.

"I don't see what bad could come of it." I reply bluntly. "You always used to tell me that your dad wanted to you to behave like a normal kid back at the prison. There aren't any walkers around and we still have a good half-an-hour of sunlight left. Why not make the most of it?"

He shrugs a second time so I take that as permission to continue.

"Have you ever been taught how to properly hold a basketball?"

He raises his eyebrow again. I'll take that as a "no".

"This will be a lot harder with one hand." I sigh, circling around behind him and taking hold of his wrist. "But you use this hand to shoot, so put your hand here." I lift his hand and place it firmly on the end of the ball that is facing us. "Line your fingers up with the seams on the ball." He does so. "Now, put _this _hand," I move around to the other side and take his other wrist. "Here." I place it down on the side of the ball.

He has a rather perplexed look on his face, but he nods understandingly.

"Okay, the first hand I moved is the hand you use to launch the ball." I launch in to a quick Basketball 101 speech. "The one I put on the side of the ball acts as a guide. Now," I stick my foot in-between his feet and lightly push outward. "Spread your legs a little... little more... There! Always keep them a shoulder width apart. Now, stay like that."

I walk around the front of him and observe my handiwork.

If I was remembering my coaching in the sport from years ago, and I believe that I was, he was in a fairly decent posture to continue on. He looks thoroughly confused, which makes me snicker, because its a cute look for him, but I quickly shake the thought off and continue instructing him. I move off to the side a little, giving him a clear shot at the goal.

"Now then, bend your knees a little." I say, and he complies. "Then just line up with the goal and take your best shot."

He looks slightly uncertain. I was still somewhat shocked that _I_ was having to teach him all of this. I made a mental note to get on Rick's case about that at some later point. Even though I came to loath my father's constant bantering about sports and how to properly play this-or-that, I suppose its every dad's job to at least introduce their son to the topic. Eventually, once in a comfortable position, Carl finally springs upward and tosses the ball. I have to give him credit. For his first try, he did much better than I ever did as a kid. His shot strikes the backboard and lands along the rim of the hoop, rolling gently around the circular structure before falling through the hoop. A perfect goal. As opposed to my first goal, which, if I remember correctly, was a horrible failure. I had no sense of aim back then, you see.

"That was fantastic, Carl!" I applaud, resisting the urge to clap. For one, I know that would embarrass him, and secondly, I didn't want to risk drawing any walkers that might be lurking in places where it could be heard.

He scratches the back of his head shyly, but can't seem to resist smiling softly, clearly pleased with himself.

"Now then, I'll teach you that game..."

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

How long had it been since I actually played a game with someone close to my age?

Sure, there had been other kids at the prison. Patrick, Lizzie, Mika, though among them, only Patrick was remotely close to me in age. Okay, so was Lizzie, but she gave me all kinds of bad vibes, so I tended to avoid here whenever possible. Still, Patrick had spent most of his time fawning over Daryl or learning to cook from Carol - or worse... storytime. I shutter at the thought. And while the two of us ended up becoming pretty good friends in the end, we never played games like this.

I was actually having _fun_.

I have to admit that I was pretty embarrassed that Tanner even had to bother teaching me all of this. Don't get me wrong, I hadn't grown up under a rock or anything; I'd played with a basketball before. Just never played _basketball_ itself. The game Tanner taught me was 'PIG', which I had heard about in school when we went out on the playground for recess or something like it. I never had really wanted to play, though. The rules seemed pretty simple the way he was explaining them to me. We played rock-paper-scissors to decide who went first, which made me feel five again, but in a good way. He beat me, much to his pleasure. From there he explains that the object of the game was to make as many goals as possible. Each goal meant that I was "safe", but if I were to miss, I'd have to get a letter, starting with P and ending with G. The loser was the one that made it to G first. Of course, that sounds simple enough, but of course there is always a catch. Apparently I would also have to mimic his shots, and vice versa, in order for each goal to count. I knew he'd milk _that_ rule every chance he got.

And he did.

He is nice with his first shot, taking my place directly in front of the goal. He looks rather funny trying to launch the ball with only one hand, but, surprisingly, he quite easily makes the hoop.

"See, told you I could do it with just one." he snickers at me, moving out of the way so I could have my turn.

We continue this way for several minutes. One of us making a shot, the other mimicking it. He continues to surprise me with how well he makes some of his shots, despite his limitation. In fact, of the two of us, he is the first to get creative, running around the side of a long-looted car in the same drive way, and shooting from behind it. How he manages to make that goal is beyond me, but, low and behold, he does, forcing me to do the same. My aim is slightly off, however, and though the ball hits the rim, it bounces off, which makes me the first to get a letter:

_P_

I begin to lose track of time as the game goes on, sun slipping under the horizon, as visibility decreases alongside it. And it feels great. The two of us are laughing, hurling jokes and sneers at one another. Eventually, we even stop keeping track of the score, though that didn't keep Tanner from pestering me when we finally stopped, after night had fully fallen.

"Pretty sure I won that one." he joked as we approach where Dad and Michonne were waiting for us.

I wasn't letting him get away with it though, "There's no way!" I exclaim. "You missed those last three shots!"

"Yes, but you missed the two before." he retorts with a devilish grin. "_And_ you completely missed the hoop before then."

"Whatever!" I throw my hands up in mock irritation. "Next time we're keeping score the entire time."

He chuckles, "Anytime, Carl. Anytime."

We reach the house, where Dad and Michonne are outside sitting on the porch. Dad smiles slightly as he sees us approach, likely because the two of us are grinning like fools already.

"And where have _you two_ been all evening?" Michonne asks, also returning our smiles.

"Shooting hoops." Tanner replied, gesturing back towards where we had come from.

Dad seems pleasantly surprised by this, "Carl?" he says, craning his eyebrow at me.

I nod at him, "It was fun."

Dad nods approvingly. He suddenly seems much happier than I'd seen him in quite awhile. It was a... nice change from the way he was just a few days ago.

"Well," he continues. "I'm glad you two had some fun. Let's all turn in for the evening. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow."

I follow Tanner inside, up the stairs, and then to the right, where we stumble into the room we'd picked out for us earlier. Its simple and quaint. To me, it looks as though it had once been a simple guest bedroom. There was nothing in here to suggest that a kid had been staying here and we'd seen the master bedroom during our explorations earlier. Tanner pretty much collapses into the queen-sized bed, revealing to me just how exhausted he really was. Despite our privacy, its beginning to look like we'll just be sleeping tonight. After tossing my hat on a nearby chair, I crawl in next to him, throwing the large comforter over the both of us before snuggling up against his chest. He returns my gesture by sliding his arm around me, which feels quite nice. We both fall asleep sometime later without a word, slipping into a dreamworld of peaceful bliss...

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Morning came and went, and once more we were back on the tracks.

And it doesn't take us long to discover signs of new activity. Several miles into our continued trek to Terminus, Michonne spots a body lying off to the side of the tracks. Rick is immediately on high alert, but I haven't noticed anything else that would suggest foul play. Upon closer inspection, it seems that the body is that of a walker: stab wound in its head and, even more gruesomely, its stomach has been cut wide open and gouged out. The blood that had once spilled from the wound has had enough time to dry, so that was clear evidence to all of us that the corpse had been like this for a few days. Michonne, Rick, and I examine the corpse a little too closely perhaps, because I completely didn't notice, at first, Carl staring at another anomaly. The only reason I was alerted to it is because he reaches down and rapidly taps Rick on the shoulder, drawing all three of our attentions.

"What is it?" Rick asks, looking perplexed at his son.

Carl says nothing, but he's grinning like a madman, which confuses even me. I follow his line of sight, spotting a small power shed just off the side of the tracks. But the shed itself isn't what causes my jaw to nearly fall off. Instead, what's written on it, suddenly has both Rick and Michonne on their feet:

**Glenn  
Go To Terminus  
Maggie**

It didn't take me very long to figure out why Carl was grinning after reading that. The message was written in blood, blood that had dried, but blood nonetheless. The circuits in my head are all starting to connect. Evidently, Maggie was the one who had written the message using the blood from the walker that she must have killed. Prior to now, I had only been told stories about Glenn and Maggie, but at least I wasn't completely in the dark about who they were. This sign was all the proof Carl needs that his friends are alive; or at least _were_ alive when the sign was written.

"You see?" Carl exclaimed, his voice cracking. "I knew there were survivors!"

He glances ecstatically at Rick, who has a look of bewilderment and surprise on his own face.

"She's heading for Terminus." Michonne states the obvious. "If we keep following the tracks, we may bump into her."

Rick nods, "She must've gotten separated from Glenn. Means we need to keep an eye out for him too."

Carl nods enthusiastically and then immediately shoots me a massive grin. I can't really offer any words, not knowing Glenn or Maggie personally, but I do smile back at him. This was, after all, the first conclusive evidence we had that anyone had made it out of the prison alive, barring the crossbow bolts we had found several days ago. Nonetheless, movement out of the corner of my eye draws me away from the mini-celebration that is unfolding, and I turn my head to get a better view of what it is. Though I sorely wish I hadn't.

I had wondered how many days it would take for the herd to catch up to us. Seems I finally had my answer. Walkers were pouring out of the trees at the bend in the tracks, several yards behind our own position. But before I can even voice a warning, their snarling and raspy breathing rises over the virtual silence of our surroundings, quickly drawing Rick, Carl, and Michonne's attention as well. Their reactions are instantaneous, each drawing their respective weapon, and I am quick to follow their lead. It doesn't matter though, because no amount of fighting could possibly put a dent in this herd. As they start to approach, having now spotted us which was renewing their vigor, I spin on the ball of my foot and begin to take off in the other direction. The others must've had the same thought, because Carl is right beside me in an instant, with Rick and Michonne only steps behind us. Its a futile effort, however, because in moments, walkers are swarming us. Both Rick and Carl open fire, and I slash out at the nearest one, catching it across the jaw. It doesn't kill the walker, but causes it to stagger backwards. Glancing up, I have the horrified realization that I can no longer see Carl, Rick, _or_ Michonne. And if that wasn't bad enough, walkers were increasing in number by the moment.

"CARL!" I bellow, cutting down another walker.

There is a gunshot behind me and I spin around just in time to see the head of a walker that was closing in on me explode in a gory geyser of crimson. To my complete and utter relief, Carl is the one holding the gun.

"Have you seen Dad?!" he shouts over the noise of the herd.

I shake my head, almost violently, running towards him to prevent us from getting separated again.

"We have to get out of here!" I shout to him, slashing at another walker.

I miss, only managing to cut into its stomach, but it topples backwards, giving me a chance to drive the point of my sword into its skull.

"What about Dad?!" He shouts back. "Michonne?!"

Surveying the surroundings, I can neither see nor hear Rick and Michonne. Its hopeless. If they're really caught up in that, then either they'll be killed, or we'll be killed trying to get to them. I know what Rick would want my first priority to be. Luckily for me, that priority was already my first; his or not.

"We're sitting ducks out here! You'll run out of ammo long before we can cut our way through them all." I argue. "Get through the trees! If I were them, that's where I'd go."

Carl is anything but compliant. He continues to furiously look around for his father and Michonne, but they simply aren't there. I'm forced to continue madly fighting off walkers in the meantime, which is quickly becoming a tedious activity.

"Carl!" I do my best to snap him him from his daze, because I know we only have a few moments left before the herd overwhelms us and tears us to shreds.

Reluctantly, he looks one more time, before nodding his head. Seizing his wrist, I take off for the woods and pray the amount of walkers that follow are minimal.

####

Unfortunately, these days, when I pray; the opposite usually happens.

A large cluster of walkers broke off from the herd to follow us. We were tearing through the underbrush as fast as our legs would carry us, but the walkers didn't seem to be slowing whatsoever. To make matters worse, we were already beginning to lose sunlight and I did not want to be caught in the woods at night with the herd on our tails. Despite my hopes, there were no signs of Rick or Michonne, which meant, if they had escaped, we had been separated. We crash through a cluster of bushes with a loud sound of crunching branches and Carl suddenly surprises me by wheeling around, drawing his weapon again.

"Carl?!" I call out to him, now hearing the growing snarls of walkers as they begin to follow us out into the clearing.

"No!" he shouts back venomously. "I'm tired of running!"

He shoots, dropping a walker just as its head pushes through the bushes. The look on his face has turned to complete and utter rage. He fires another shot, causing a second walker's head to explode. I know I have to stop him. We're on limited ammunition supply and if he runs out, its just me and my sword against the entire pack that had followed us. That didn't bode well at all.

"Carl! We have to get to shelter!" I try again.

He ignores me and shoots a third time. I have to hand it to him. Despite his enraged frenzy, he has maintained very precise accuracy, as a third walker bites the dust. He turns suddenly and furiously towards me, rage casting his usually azure eyes a deep red.

"We _left _them!" he spits, wheeling around to shoot another walker emerging from the woods.

"We didn't leave them." I argue, frantic to get him to see reason so that we can get somewhere safe. "We couldn't even see them! What good are we to them if we're dead?!"

"We could've done something!" he retorts.

I should've realized by now that arguing with Carl, once he has an idea stuck in his head, was much like banging one's head into a cement wall. Regardless, I know I have to try before he ends up hurting himself, or drawing even more walkers.

"No we couldn't! They were everywhere, Carl, and there were more coming!"

He again turns to face me, but this time, his expression is completely different. There are tears streaking down his face, eyes red and swollen, though there was still a hint of anger. Several walkers crash through the bushes and begin advancing on us. I see them before Carl and use that as an opportunity to seize his wrist and start running again. We don't have to run far. Breaking through a second, thinner, line of trees, I can see an old building just on top of the hill that is gently rising above us. I had no time to process what the building was, or where we could be. The simple sight of a potential shelter was enough for me to begin running as hard as I could towards it, Carl close on my heels. To my surprise, the front door of the building is wide open. I storm the entrance, pulling Carl in behind me, and quickly turning around to slam the door behind us. The noise draws a few strangling walkers that had wandered into the building at some prior time, but I'm able to quickly deal with them. I then move quickly to push whatever furniture that was close enough to barricade the door. And not a moment too soon either, because the cluster of walkers that had followed us begin to slam against the door. With any luck, the door will hold and they will lose interest.

I allow myself to exhale, realizing I'd been holding my breath, in relief.

My attention quickly goes to Carl, who is standing near the entrance completely in a daze. Approaching from behind him, I wrap my arm around his waist, and, as expected, he collapses. Its the hardest I've heard him cry since the incident on the roadside, several weeks prior. I know there is nothing I can say to ease his pain, so I simply hold onto him, gently stroking his hair, and let him cry. For how long, I can't be sure. Between his sobs and the walkers snarling and banging outside, my brain is quickly approaching sensory overload, but I try to bear it. Try to fight through it. Carl's sobs eventually begin to subside and, seemingly in tandem, the sounds of the agitated walkers outside also begins to die down. Through the window, I can see them still clambering around in the yard, but, at least for the moment, their focus on us had dropped. And finally, I'm able to speak, in a hushed tone:

"I'm sorry." I breathe.

Its all I can offer, though I wish there was something else I could do.

He says nothing at first, though I do notice that, in a way, he's clinging to me which only makes me hold onto him tighter. Eventually, he shakes his head;

"I'm just tired of losing people..." he whispers.

I don't know why, but his words slice through to the core of me like a hot knife through butter. I'm suddenly reminded of my camp and the people that had surrounded me there, in Atlanta. Of Nat, who had gone from being my savior to my worst nightmare. Of my family, whom, for all I knew, were among the walking dead that now commanded complete control of our planet. And finally, of Rick and Michonne, who were nowhere to be found. I became so enraptured in the flashbacks plaguing my mind that I almost fail to notice the warm moisture that is now sliding down my own cheeks, dripping off my mandible and into Carl's filthy hair. I was crying myself. Why? Because I was tired of losing people too. But I knew I couldn't tell him that. I had to be strong, just like he was whenever I fell apart.

"You haven't lost them." I tell him, slowly beginning to rock him in my embrace. "Your dad and Michonne are smart. They got out of there and we'll find them."

He's silent.

"And when we do we'll find... Maggie... Glenn... Daryl. We won't stop looking until we find them all." I squeeze him tightly. "I promise."

He looks up at me, and though he doesn't smile, his look is of understanding and determination. I softly wipe the remaining tears from his eyes and muster the best smile I can. He eventually nods and I slowly rise up off the ground to examine our surroundings properly for the first time. Outside, the moon has risen high in the sky, casting an eerie glow on the walkers lurking about the yard. But more creepy, in my opinion, are the strange rectangular shadows that I see rising up throughout the yard.

"Uh, Tanner?"

Carl's voice comes from the adjacent room and I rush to see what he's found. He's standing at the top of a flight of stairs, leading down below the surface, into some sort of basement. Leaning against the wall, about halfway down, is a dead walker. Just beneath it is a second... with a crossbow bolt sticking directly out of its skull. Carl looks bewildered at me, eyes still red from where he'd been crying. Curious, I step out of the door way and walk across to the neighboring room, and what I find there is equally disturbing. An open casket lie at the back of the room, old piano scooted up against the far wall, adjacent the caskets. The dots connect and I realize what I had seen outside. Those shadows were tombstones. A graveyard. Which meant...

We were in a funeral home.

* * *

**A/N: There we are. Tanner and Carl have managed to get themselves separated from the group, its seems. Hope it was an enjoyable read! Now for the reviews!**

**HunterArk: Why thank you :) I hope you continue to enjoy.**

**Youngblooded: I knew you were still out there! Thank you for the compliments. Yes, that was a major point I was trying to get across. Tanner is always trying to stick his neck out for Carl, so I wanted to show that Carl could return the favor. After all, Carl is quite the capable fighter on his own. Glad the herd has that effect on you. Because, as you've seen, they're still around xD And yes, someone else suggested him as a possible model for Tanner in a previous chapter. While they're not identical to the way I see him, he's about as close as you get when it comes to celebrities. Hope you continue to enjoy ^^**

**Doctorates: I was trying to invoke that "transition" feeling, so I'm glad you picked up on that. For sure, the story is moving into the second half. Thanks for the comment on the sex scenes xD I literally delete them and rewrite them about three times before I finally settle on one. I want to make them happen naturally. 9 times out of 10, especially in the Carl fictions around here, as soon as he's introduced to sex, every chapter from there on out revolves around it. It may just be me, but I never felt sex actually happened like that, so when I'm writing it, I always have to think if it would actually happen then - are the emotions or the desire there? - and I have to consider the environment. And that dressing room was just too good to pass up hahaha I will say that I'm becoming more comfortable writing them, though, so I feel they make a nice addition to the story. Like I said, I appreciate the encouragement, because those scenes made me nervous in the beginning :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter and continue to enjoy them. **

**Thanks everyone :) Keep the comments coming. I love to hear them!**

**Until the next one!**

**Later.**


	20. Promise Me

The night is endless.

Carl slipped off to sleep long ago, but for me, sleep refused to come.

It could be because a storm was rolling through, which only served to aggravate the walkers outdoors. But I suspect that the true reason for my insomnia is anxiety. Carl and I had never been separated from Rick or Michonne for longer than a few hours tops; and even then, only on runs. A flash of lightning illuminates the room I'm sitting in. The room with the casket. Carl is asleep, head in my lap, my arm gently draped over him. The anxiety of possibly having lost his father and Michonne had quickly sapped away his energy, so, after I was certain we were safe, he had quickly fallen asleep. Leaving me to contemplate our situation alone. I still have both of our backpacks, which means we at least have _some_ food and ammunition, as well as our sleeping bags. That was the good news. The bad? This storm didn't look to be going anywhere soon and there were walkers crawling the outside lawn, making it a suicide mission to attempt an escape. There is a very real possibility that both of us could meet our end here. All the conditions were right and safety is only ever temporary in this world.

Outside, there is an earsplitting crash of thunder, the sound waves of which cause the building around me to quiver. Carl jolts awake in response, snapping upright, furiously looking around the room for the source of the noise that woke him. I'm quick to soothe his fear, wrapping my arm around his waist before sliding him back to where his back is resting against my torso. He immediately recognizes my touch and sinks back into me, resting the back of his head against my right shoulder.

"You still up?" he asks sleepily.

"Mhm..." Not a very profound answer, but all I'm capable of offering at this point.

The rain intensifies, now pounding relentlessly on the outside of the building, making it hard to even form a coherent thought. For awhile, I think that Carl had returned to sleep, but he stirs after a few moments, confirming that he is indeed still awake; just being quiet. He hasn't spoken much since we arrived, clearly in a great, and understandable, amount of turmoil, give our current situation. But there's something else off about the way he's acting. Despite the warm air, even in the night, of Georgia, Carl seems to be shivering. Significantly shivering.

"Carl?"

He glances over at me, forehead brushing my chin as he does, and for a brief moment I can feel it. Heat. Alarmed, I bring my hand up from around his waist and press it gently to his forehead. Just as I thought. He's burning up.

"Are you feeling okay?" I press him.

He brings both of his hands up and rubs his eyes sleepily. His unresponsiveness is an answer all on its own. Perhaps he's too tired to answer, or doesn't want to admit he's sick, but everything about his posture and reaction tells me that he is. My immediate reaction is to check him for bite wounds. I didn't think he was bitten during the escape from the herd, but there was also the possibility that he had been scratched, or some other walker-related wound had been inflicted on him. My fears are quickly put to rest however, as, upon further inspection, he doesn't seem to have any cuts or bites on him; nor is he bleeding. Still, of all the times to come down with a fever, now was the absolute worst. I push myself up off the ground and begin searching for a washcloth or something I can use to wet in order to bring down his temperature.

"Where're you going?" his voice is weak, frail even, partially from exhaustion and partially from the illness consuming him.

"Not far," I reply quietly. "Stay there, I'll be back."

Even though my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, its still slow goings trying to make my way through the building. I have to rely on the occasional flash of lightning to get a true sense of my surroundings, but eventually I stumble through another doorway and discover a small kitchen. From here, I am able to find a washcloth and wet it in the nearby sink. Now that I know my way, I am able to quickly return to Carl. I find him right where I left him. He's sitting up, knees drawn in towards his chest, head resting atop his knees. I take my place right next to him.

"Come over here." I direct him.

"What's that?" he asks, another flash of lightning illuminating the wet cloth in my hand.

"Something to help."

He eyes me curiously for a moment but eventually relents and scoots closer to me. I gently draw him backwards and then lay the rag on his forehead. There's another crash of thunder, which causes me to barely hear him chuckle.

"What?" I smirk in the darkness, dragging the rag across his forehead.

"My mom used to do this when I got sick." is his reply. "Back before..."

Its rare that Carl mentions Lori. I can count the number of occurrences on the fingers of my good hand. The mention of her usually bothers him, but occasionally he can smile when a good memory bubbles forth. Apparently, this was one of those occasions. There is a crack of lightning which allows me to briefly make out the nostalgic smile painted across his face. But that's not all I notice. He's pale. Very pale. Carl Grimes has never been a particularly tan young man, but the way he looked just now, illuminated by the ghostly light electrifying the sky, was deathly. Concern overcomes me. We lack the proper supplies to deal with a serious viral infection. Unless this is just a common cold, and more and more I'm beginning to think it isn't, fighting whatever has gotten its way into Carl's system will be more than troublesome. I keep my concerns to myself, however, focusing on keeping Carl's thoughts on other things.

"Well," I eventually reply. "I'm not your mom, but... I know a thing or two about taking care of sick people."

"What're we gonna do?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, perplexed.

"About finding Dad and Michonne."

I sigh, "For the time being." I reply, choosing carefully the words I use. "It'll have to wait. I don't know what you have yet and being outside won't improve your conditions. Not to mention we'd really have to bolt to make it through those walkers outdoors."

He frowns in the darkness, not at all pleased with my answer, but he doesn't argue.

"We'll stay here for the time being." I continue. "This place should be safe for the moment."

He nods reluctantly.

Outside the rain has begun to subside at long last. Perhaps now the two of us can finally slip into some much needed sleep. But before we're able to do so, Carl seems to have something else on his mind.

"Tanner?"

His voice rouses me from near sleep, "Hm?"

"I'm glad you're here."

My chest immediately warms to the temperature of the sun. That is a truly remarkable thing for the ever independent Carl Grimes to admit. I lightly pad his forehead with the rag a few more times and then lean forward, planting a kiss on his temple. Probably not the smartest thing to do, given that he's sick, but, at this point, I genuinely just don't care. His skin is warm to the touch and salty with sweat.

"Wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world, Carl." I reply. "Well... maybe an ice cream parlor. So long as you're there."

He chuckles weakly at this.

"Its just that," he continues, suddenly sounding distant. "Everytime stuff like this happens... No one... No one ever seems to be around. When Dad and Glenn went looking for Hershel, back at the farm, first it was Mom who ran off. Then Shane went after her. Nobody seemed to care that I was already dealing with the possibility of losing one parent. Then both of them just went off and left. Could've lost all three of them. Then Mom died and Judith was born. Dad went off, had his breakdown. Beth and the others were too busy tending to Judith."

I just listened. Every now and then, Carl will have these moments where everything that was on his mind at the time just comes spilling out. In my opinion, it was born out of the fact that he didn't feel he could share it with Rick and was only just starting to come around to opening up to Michonne. And while he considers the rest of the group his friends, none of them were really close enough to him for him to let this kind of stuff out. But me... well, I was in a unique position. For some unseen reason, he feels that he can share these issues with me. Likely because our bond is a lot more intimate than the others he has. I don't mind, though. It allows me to be there for him in ways Rick and Michonne can't. So I let him continue, every now and then dabbing his forehead with the rag. His fever hasn't come down significantly, but the cool feeling of the water seems to be having the desired effect on him personally.

"And then there was the prison," he goes on. "Governor blows the whole place up, Dad slips into a coma, and once again its just... me."

He shakes his head slowly, as if in deep thought for a split moment.

"It was times like that when I was envious of Glenn and Maggie, Dad and Mom... when she was alive. And, even though they weren't together, Carol and Daryl were always there for one another."

Sensing my cue, I relent from wetting his forehead, and slip my arm around his waist again, pulling him back into a loose embrace.

"Well," I say at last. "You don't have to be envious anymore."

He smiles slight, "I know... I know."

####

Carl's condition is worse the following morning.

I'm running on about three hours of on-and-off sleep, which makes my normal functions severely impaired. During the night, Carl's fever had actually increased, rather than the opposite, which had been my goal. He is stretched out on top of his sleeping back, just below the casket in one of the viewing rooms. He had asked me to cover him up, because he was chilly, but I knew that was a result of the fever and that his body was actually warm. The additional heat will only make the condition worse. He seems to understand after I explain that to him. But his fever isn't his only symptom any longer. His eyes have become bloodshot and he has grown nauseous. Furthermore, he had developed a severe migraine as well as muscle soreness. This had all the telltale signs of the flu. Somewhere, somehow, he had gotten it. Upon revealing my suspicions, however, Carl provides me with a very useful tidbit of information. And equally chilling at the same time.

"At the prison," he explains weakly. "There was a flu outbreak. Killed a bunch of people. I was one of the few that didn't get sick."

"That doesn't mean you were immune." I explain to him. "There are many bacteria and diseases that can lie dormant in an infected person, only surfacing when they desire, or when the body is in a weakened state. Stress can be incredibly hard on the body and can weaken it significantly. That may have been the trigger."

He cranes his eyebrow at me, "How do you know all that?"

I do my best to grin, trying to keep the mood light, "My mom was a nurse practitioner." I explain. "No doctor, but, she knew a thing or two. Since she knew I wanted to end up in the medical field, she often taught me what she learned. Do you remember what you all did to treat it?"

He shakes his head, "All I know is that Hershel was able to treat the symptoms after Daryl and Michonne went on a run. Dad kept me quarantined so I know very little about what happened."

_Damn._

That gives me very little to work with._  
_

"Well, we have no medicine." I say. "I have no choice but to go on a run."

"Alone?!" he exclaims, voice cracking.

"There's no other choice." I reply sternly. "If you go out there, it will only make things worse. I won't let you die. But in order to do that, you need medicine. To treat the symptoms."

He opens his mouth to protest, but instead is thrown into a heavy fit of coughs. I drop to my knees and pat him furiously on the chest, forcing the mucus build up in his lungs to break up, ending the coughing fit abruptly.

"I'll be okay." I assure him, moving my hand up to gently stroke his cheek.

"What about the walkers in the yard...?" he presses, his voice suddenly hoarse.

"I'll sneak out the back." I gesture behind me. "If I have any problems, I have my sword."

A lightbulb seems to come on in his head and he reaches to where his backpack is laying, just beside him. He struggles to retrieve what he's looking for, but eventually, finds and pulls out the object.

"Take my gun." he says, handing me the weapon.

"No." I refuse sharply, pushing it back to him. "You keep it. Just in case. I will be fine. Promise."

He looks at me hard, uncertainty filling his eyes, but he eventually relents, setting the gun down next to him reluctantly. I turn around and exit the room, returning to the main room where I had dropped my own backpack the night before. I strap on my sword at the same time and then return to Carl to say my goodbyes. Hopefully not a final one.

"I'll be back." I assure him. "I'll be gone a couple hours at the most. The front door is still barricaded so walkers shouldn't be a problem. Do you think you'll be okay?"

He nods at me.

I hate this. Leaving him. Either way I sliced it, we lose. If I don't go and get medicine, he could die from the symptoms of his flu. If go, walkers could find a way to smash the barricades, or worse, roaming bandits could seek to use the funeral home as a shelter. But I knew as well as he did that the odds for survival were greater if I found medication.

"Promise me you'll come back." he says, breaking my train of thought.

Its only then that I realize he's suffering from as much anxiety about this as I am. I nimbly cross the room, kneeling down in front of him and pressing my lips gently to his. Its a short kiss. No tongue. None of the passionate sloppiness we had practiced in the past. Just a simple press-and-release kiss. I am the one who breaks it, standing back to my feet.

"I promise."

####

Sneaking out the backdoor is the easy part.

The backyard has far less walkers in it. The ones I encounter are simply a minor issue, swatting them out of the way with my blade. I have no map. No way to find nearby settlements. But I do vaguely remember the path we took when we were running from the herd. Looping around along the edge of the woods, I'm able to avoid the larger cluster of walkers roaming the cemetery. Once I'm clear, I immediately take off into the woods. Every step I take, anxiety mounts. Thoughts that I thought I'd made peace with continue to plague me. What if walkers break in? What if people find the place? Carl will be alone, defenseless, and I won't be there to protect him. These thoughts are practically eating me alive, but I keep pressing forward. Because there is always that chance. That slim, but very real chance, that I could retrieve the medicine that saves his life. If I can accomplish that, then all of this will have been worth it. I make that the center of my thoughts as I press into the first clearing. The bodies of the walkers Carl had killed the previous night, during our escape, were still laying where we left them. I step over them and cross back into the woods.

The second stretch of trees is much longer. With the anxiety eating at my conscious, its nearly endless, but I walk in a straight line, knowing that I can't get lost if I keep going straight. The thought dawns on me that there still might be remnants of the herd on the tracks once I get there. If that's the case, then I'm screwed... royally. But my suspicions are put to rest the moment I break the treeline and arrive on the railroad. No walkers. No people. There are no signs of Rick or Michonne. And that's more crushing than I had initially thought. Of course, that didn't necessarily prove that they are dead, but it didn't reveal anything to the contrary either.

Sucking it up, I turn and head back the opposite direction.

An hour passes. Then an hour and a half. Finally, though, I reach the neighborhood we had stayed at the night before. The further in I push, the more signs of civilization become apparent and before long, I arrive in town. In the distance, I can see scattered walkers roaming along the horizon. Diverting my sight from them, I begin to search for a drug store. It doesn't take me long to locate a CVS sitting on one of the nearby street corners. Upon reaching the doorway, however, things become more problematic. Peering into the dank and darkness, I can see walkers. Dozens of them. Far more than I am ready to handle on my own. Backpedaling a few steps, I consider my options. On the one hand, I can attempt to take on or sneak past those walkers, hoping that I can find the medication I need without alerting them, and then get back out. But that option didn't seem likely at all. The second option was to find another location that stores medication. And one that would be least likely to have been raided.

_Think, Tanner. Think!_

I rack my brain looking for solutions. But my salvation comes when I turn and observe the surrounding buildings. Peaking just over the roofs of the nearby shopping center is the telltale signs of a hospital. A fairly large one at that. While it was possible that it could've been raided, a hospital that size would be impossible to raid in its entirety. And they'd be more likely to have the hard-hitting treatments I needed. So, without thinking too much more on it, I begin to head that direction. The walk is long. Much longer than I want it to be, but I finally reach the edge of the parking lot. The place is in complete and total disarray. Crashed and raided cars. Litter. Bodies long dead lying all around. And yes, a few walkers lurking between vehicles. I do my best to avoid them, using the other broken down vehicles for cover as I sneak towards the entrance. The front, formerly revolving doors, were completely shattered, forcing me to step over the scattered shards of glass to avoid breaking them and attracting the walkers. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped in here or worse.

I enter the frontmost room. What I suppose to be the lobby and quickly located a map of the building, still nailed to the wall across from the reception desk.

Conveniently, there is a large red X indicated where I am. From there, I trace my finger across the halls until I find a nearby stairwell. From there I push my way through a nearby set of double doors. The stairs aren't far, being the first entrance on my left. From there I can faintly make out the outline of a directory. From this, I can tell that the pharmacy I'm looking for is three floors above me. And so, with that piece of knowledge safely with me, I begin to ascend the steps. The smell of death is strong in the building. I had expected this, figuring that a hospital would have been one of the first places an outbreak would've occurred, but so far I had seen very little sign of walker activity. I reached the base of the third flight of stairs and push open the door. I'm immediately greeted by the familiar snarl of a hungry walker. Luckily, the sunlight filtering through the window of a nearby room makes it visible to me, and with a stab, I end its reanimated state, causing it to drop to the floor.

Directly in front of me is a receptionist's desk. Behind that is a door which is slightly ajar, so I move behind the desk and enter the room.

_Bingo._ I think.

Shelves upon shelves of medication are still in the room. Some shelves are in disarray, their contents jumbled and partially spilled on the ground, but for the most part, the place is entirely untouched. I set to work searching for the medication I need. I'm in luck. There is an entire shelf dedicated to flu treatment. Nothing that will cure it, but all will treat the symptoms, which is what I'm going for. I grab as much as I can and stuff it into my bag. I grab extra if I can. Since I've been exposed to Carl, both involuntarily by being close to him, and voluntarily by kissing him, I know that I will need to start taking some of these myself, as a preventive measure. I clear an entire shelf worth of pills and medication before snapping my bag shut and moving through the doorway. I should be cursing the fact that everything, so far, had gone so smoothly. Everytime it did _something_ came along to kill it.

And just as I make it to the stairwell, that something appears.

Walkers.

Drawn by what, I don't know, but there is a good ten of them ascending the stairs. I turn back in a panic, flying through the door and, without thinking, slamming it shut. In moments I can feel the undead slamming against the door, desperately trying to gain entry and sate their satanic hunger. But they are the least of my problems. The noise being generated has drawn extra unwanted attention. A head sticks out of a nearby room across from me. Then another. Walkers I didn't even know where on this floor were being alerted to my presence. Gripping my sword firmly in hand, I decapitate the first walker. It drops. The second one gets the tip of my sword through its skull. Blood squirts from the wound, splattering warm fluid across my face. I know I can't hold out like this. My only hope is to find an alternative stairwell and escape that way. I suck in a breath and bolt in the direction of the hallway. I hear the stairwell door fly open, the snarls of walkers filling the air. Their continued noise making begins to draw others.

Scrambling around another corner I see an exit into a patient waiting room. If there is another stairwell on this floor, it will be there. I shove my way through the double doors blocking entrance. By now I can hear the walkers gaining on me. Their snarls of hunger becoming more frantic and ravenous. I strike gold at the next turn, finding a doorway which, upon running through, I find a flight of stairs. I don't waist time checking my surroundings, knowing I only have a few seconds before walker descend on my like a flock of vultures on a corpse. Unfortunately, in my haste, I miss a step and go tumbling right into the wall at the base of the steps. And that is when I make a very important discovery. I had landed on my arm. The one I had injured nearly a month ago when I fell from a tree. But, absent the natural pain that comes from falling on ones arm, it feels... normal. Oddly normal.

Walkers are closing in.

My fall had given them the time needed to close the gap between us. My newest revelation gives an idea, a smirk curling across my lips.

_I really hope this works, or I am one dead son of a bitch._

Throwing caution to the wind, I rip off the sling I had kept my arm in for so long, seizing the hilt of my sword with both hands for the first time since I was injured. Of course, my shoulder aches slightly from where Nat had stabbed me, but the wound is surprisingly less irritated than I imagined. With new confidence brimming in my system, I slash down, nearly cleaving the entire first walker in two.

_Jackpot._

My arm was back. I hadn't used it in so long that I hadn't noticed it healing. After all, Michonne had once told me I'd never use it again. But, now, looking back, I should've known better. In children, broken arms, even without casts, can heal within three weeks. In teens anywhere between three to six. Mine had taken its sweet time, but it had finally come back. With it, my full strength returned, and I was able to use both arms to fully control my weapon. Another walker fell. And then a third. Fourth. Fifth. The sixth trips over the growing pile of dead, allowing me to stomp hard on its skull, smashing it like a watermelon. With that, I'm able to break away. There are still four on the stairwell, but I'm not about to test my new found luck. Bounding through the door at the end of the flight of stairs, I wheel around the corner and head for the exit.

For freedom.

For fresh air.

For Carl...

####

The sun was setting as I reached the funeral home.

I retrace my steps, taking the long route around the front until I reach the back, to avoid attracting the walkers still lingering in the front. My heart is racing by this point. Though there doesn't seem to be any signs of disturbances to the building, that doesn't mean something hasn't happened. My greatest fear is that I will return to find Carl either dead or missing. So it is with great dreadful anticipation that I gently push open the back door. There is no noise from inside, so I can immediately rule out walkers at the very least.

"Carl?" I whisper just loud enough for the sound to carry.

No response.

I round the corner and finally reach the room where I had left him. Suddenly, I remember to breath, exhaling in great relief. He's right where I left him, sleeping soundly on his sleeping bag, evidenced by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The wet rag I'd left with him is still laying awkwardly on his forehead. I take a moment to thank God that he's safe. Its not often myself and the Almighty cross paths, but I think He deserves thanks for protecting the one I love while I'm away. Setting my bag down in the entry to the room, I make my way in, kneeling down next to him and gently shaking him. He's fiercely hot to the touch. Not a good sign. He grumbles at first, but then slowly opens his eyes.

"Tanner?" his voice is _much_ weaker than when I had left him.

My heart melts.

"Its okay." I comfort him, lightly brushing the hair off of his washcloth. "I'm back."

He sighs quite audibly with relief.

"Any sign of Dad or Michonne?"

I wonder: Has he been worried about that this whole time? It wouldn't be completely unlike him. But that is, itself, a bad sign. Stress, as I said earlier, only weakens the body more. I've got to get him to relax, but I can't lie to him.

I shake my head, "No. I did look though."

I see tears begin to form, but I'm quick to wipe them away.

"No crying," I tell him, gently rubbing his cheek. "We'll find them. But first you have to get better."

I return to where my backpack is, snatching several of the bottles from inside it, as well as a water bottle from his backpack, before returning again to his side. I carefully count out each pill that he needs, based on my own recollection of how my mother had once cared for me, combined with the instructions on the bottles themselves, and hand them to him once I've done so. He quickly gulps them down with the water I've given him.

"I'll make sure you get these on regular intervals." I say to him. "With any luck, you'll begin to recover soon."

Carl nods, "Thank you." he manages.

"Unfortunately," I continue. "I can't let you go back to sleep just yet."

He looks at me quizzically.

"Your fever has gone up again." I explain. "I have to get it down at all costs. You're going to hate me for this but our only option is to give you a cold bath."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"This is a funeral home." I explain. "That means there is a room in here where they embalm the bodies before viewings. With any luck, there will be a large tub there, with running water and we can use that. There's no hot water any more, so all water will be naturally cold. It would work better if we had ice, but we'll just have to make due with what we have."

He nods reluctantly, but then asks another question.

"Tanner?" he looks at me funny. "What happened to your sling?"

I had completely forgotten about that.

Smiling at him, I show him that I can move my arm. There is some restriction to it, though. I can't move it around too quickly, or in full circles yet. He seems genuinely surprised by this.

"Looks like its working again." I reply, grinning. "Now, come on, let's get you that bath."

I was right, as it turns out. We find the embalming room down the stairs in what would be the basement. There are two tables with decomposing corpses on them, but it doesn't appear as though they had reanimated. On close inspection, there are wounds in the head, indicating that these were originally walkers. Nevertheless, I find what I'm looking for directly behind them. A tub. Fairly large one at that. I help Carl out of his clothes and, for the first time, I see the full of him... naked as the day he was born. But, for once, its not in the sexual sense; though I do have to admit, he's incredibly good looking. His shivers have become more violent due to his fever and the sudden exposure to cold air. Unfortunately, that is about to get much worse. I switch on the water and am relieved to see it snap on, beginning to fill the basin. While we wait, I launch into another speech:

"I know you've probably heard this before, but I'm going to tell you anyways." I say. "You need to keep drinking. Water. As much of it as you can. We have plenty of leftover water bottles to last a few days. You need to keep clear fluid down. I'll search the kitchen for salt. There has to be some there. I'll get you some salt water for gargling to help your throat. And if you're laying down, I'll keep a wet rag on you. As long as we keep that up, along with the medication I brought back, you will start to feel better."

He stares blankly at me, trying to absorb everything I just threw at him at once.

That's when I notice the bath is full, so I quickly shut off the water to prevent the basin from flooding. I help him ease into the tub. He jolts at first, due to the frigid temperatures of the water. He adjusts a few inches of the time, and eventually, is up to his neck in cold water. He's shivering violently, which makes me feel terrible, but I know it will at least help with bringing the temperature of his body down. Using a nearby towel, I soak it, and help him scrub himself. Since he's already in there, I figure we might as well get him clean. I must admit, its remarkable how clean this place is. Something tells me that this was very recently someone's hideout. I just pray they don't return. I continuously check Carl's temperature until it feels like is come to a reasonable level. I then help him, still shivering, out of the tub, and wrap him in my jacket; since the towel I had used was wet.

We return upstairs, where I wrap him in his sleeping bag, snatch him another bottle of water and prepare him for a night of much needed rest.

The sun is setting again and night is fast upon us.

After settling him in, I take my own dose of medicine, to ensure that I don't get sick on top of this, take a quick, yet ice cold bath in the basement, and then return to him. I set up my sleeping bag next to his and settle down, finally, for the night. Carl is weakly watching me as I crawl into the sleeping bag. Once I'm securely inside, I roll over, propping myself up on my elbow and give him my complete attention.

"Get some rest." I whisper to him quietly. "The quicker you get better, the quicker we find everyone."

He doesn't nod. In fact, he doesn't make any indication he had even processed what I said.

Instead he lifts his bare arm from its protective cover and places it lightly on my cheek. I smile at him, raising my own hand to cover his, holding it firmly in place, while gently rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. Its a sweet moment which passes much too quickly for me. I lean over and softly kiss his forehead and then we both lay down in our respective bags.

"I love you..." he manages before sleep takes him.

"I love you too, Carl." I reply, grinning ear to ear, and finally, sleep takes me too.

* * *

**A/N: Holy 20th chapter. I wanted this one to feature something unique, so I brought back the Flu from early Season 4. Carl didn't get sick in the show, but as explained in this chapter, some microbes actually go dormant in people they infect; not activating until there is an opening presented. Fun fact, Tanner was originally supposed to be the one who got sick, and it was supposed to happen during the whole Nat arc, but I decided I had too much going on there as it was, so I changed some details around. Also, because I know some of you may have questions about Tanner's arm, I'll go ahead and explain my reasoning. Broken arms, even without casts, take about 3 weeks to heal in a child, depending on the fracture. In teens, this can go as far as 6 weeks, and adults, up to even 10 weeks. That's just a general ballpark. This story, so far, has covered between 4-5 weeks; a month's worth of time. So realistically, Tanner's arm isn't 100% better, which I tried to illustrate towards the end, but it _is_ usable regardless. I never intended him to completely lose us of his arm.**

**That all said, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!**

**Next one can be expected sometime after Sunday's TWD episode, either right after, or the following Monday morning. I should be able to get out quite a few more chapters this week since its finally Spring Break. (Yay! :D) I have their outlines done, for the most part, but I still have some tweeking to do.**

**So review, comment, follow, favorite and enjoy!**

**See you guys next chapter!**

**Later.**


	21. The Hidden Heart

Carl's symptoms didn't improve by morning.

While that doesn't seem to be good news, it has a good connotation. He hasn't improved, however, his symptoms haven't gotten worse. Yet. That meant that the medicine was beginning to work as intended. I wake fairly early, only realizing this due to the sun's relative lowness in the sky. Carl wakes about the same time and so I set to work tending to him as best I can. His muscle soreness is particularly a problem this morning, but, as with any illness, the mornings will always be the worst part of the day. I change out his rag with a fresh new one, checking his fever just before placing the new on on his forehead. His fever has come down to a degree. He's nowhere near as hot as he was the day prior. I then replace his empty water bottle with a new one. Hopefully I can get him to drink several of these today, which will speed up his recovery.

"How's your throat?" I ask him, while washing my hands in the nearby kitchen sink.

"Its-" he begins, but the scratchiness of his voice says it all, and I think he realizes this because he doesn't say anymore.

I snatch his empty water bottle and fill it with water in the sink. Rummaging through the nearby cabinets, once the bottle is full, I locate a small container of salt and quickly mix it with the water; snapping the cap shut before thoroughly shaking it to ensure that it mixes completely. I then snatch a pot off the counter and head back to where Carl is sitting.

"Here," I offer him the bottle, which he takes, and then sit the pot next to him. "Gargle that and then spit it into the pot. Won't taste the best, but it'll keep your throat from getting out of control."

He nods and, without hesitating, takes a swig of the salt water. His confidence, however, is quickly replaced by a hilarious grimace, and he immediately spews the water into the pot.

"Told you." I say, chuckling.

"How am I supposed to keep gargling it when it tastes like..." he pauses. "Like shit."

"Carl Grimes," I do my best to mimic Rick's accent. It fails horribly, but the snicker that comes across his face is worth it. "Watch your language."

"You do it all the time." he retorts, trying to sound offended.

"Can't deny that." I reply, sighing.

He goes silent for a second, smile fading, replaced by a serious expression. It seems I have unintentionally tapped on some unresolved feelings. I leave him to his thoughts, going back to my backpack to retrieve his medication for the morning. Best I took some too. We have both been lucky so far that my contact with him has yet to land me in his same predicament, but that is still always a possibility. And if I get sick before he's better, we're both royally fucked. Returning to him, I hand him his morning dose, which he silently takes from me and gulps down with the aid of his water. Before I can set about any other tasks, though, he breaks his silence.

"Do you think they're looking for us?" he asks, eyes on the floor still.

I don't have to ask who he's referring to. I know.

"If I know your dad," I reply. "He's combing every square inch of these woods. If we don't find him first, he'll find us. Of that, I have no doubts."

"What if," he pauses to search for the right phrasing. "What if we don't find them?"

I cross the room to kneel in front of him, taking his chin between my thumb and index finger so I can bring his beautiful eyes to meet mine. The usual crystal-like shininess of his eyes are darkened. Made murky by the illness ravaging his small frame. Even so, I still find the breathtaking. Given the opportunity, I'd swim in those perfect cerulean spheres of his. He studies me, staring at me almost as hard as I'm staring back at him. I then break the ice with a soft, reassuring smile.

"We will."

He starts to nod but suddenly erupts into a fit of coughing. The stress he's experiencing emotionally is destroying his body's response to the flu. I have to do something to bring that stress down. Perhaps now was the perfect time to orchestrate that little date I had proposed we go on a few days ago. He was sick, so it wouldn't be perfect, but it may improve his mood, which will improve his body's response to the illness ravaging him. Scooting over next to him, I gently stroke and pat his back, breaking up some of the built up mucus in his chest, so that the coughing fits will end. When they do, he gives me a thankful look, but says nothing. I wrap my arm around him and pull him close to me, allowing him to lay his head on my shoulder. I've taken my preventatives for the day, so, with any luck, those will be enough to ward off the exposition to the virus infecting him. And if it doesn't, there's really nothing I can do anyways, as I was exposed to it just by being around him even before we got the medicine.

"You don't have to go on another run today, do you?" he asks, breaking my concentration.

"No." I reply. "I'm not leaving you."

"Because I'll be fine if you do." he says, completely ignoring my last sentence.

"Carl," I emphasize his name. "I'm not going anywhere. We have everything we need right now. You've gotta stop worrying. It'll end up killing you if you don't."

He glances off to the side, almost shamefully, and sighs to himself.

"I don't get you sometimes." he says in a low tone. I give him a moment, knowing he's not done. Not yet. "You shouldn't worry about me. I'll be fine, you should be out looking for Dad and Michonne. If you can find them, then-"

"Then what?" I cut him off. "What changes? You're still sick. We still can't move."

"But we'll be together again!" he argues, becoming more animated. "We have to-"

But he's overexerted himself. Fits of coughing come once again, but with him tightly in my embrace, I'm have more access to him and I'm able to once again loosen the mucus causing his attack.

"_We_ are staying here." I reply when the coughing fit ends again. "Until you get better. Splitting up even further doesn't increase our odds, it lowers them. What if the herd comes back and I get surrounded? What happens if walker storm in here, or worse, people with guns, while I'm away? You may think you can do it all alone, Carl, because that's how you've had to deal with it before-"

I stop when I see the look of anguish come across his face. He knows I'm right. But I still hate having to inflict those memories on him.

"But you can't. You... You don't have to anymore." I finish.

He fall silent again.

"I'm not going anywhere." I repeat, emphasizing my point. "When we find your dad and Michonne... it'll be together. As a team. Just like we promised."

He's silent at first, but then nods reluctantly. I can tell he's frustrated. The way he has purses his lips, muscles tense, right down to his sitting posture. There's something he's not expressing. Something he's holding back. For my sake or his, I can't tell. During the quiet intermission, he wheezes a few times. There's a slight gurgle at the back of his throat and he suddenly sits up and spits, spewing fluid across the floor. Crimson fluid.

Blood.

####

Perhaps I spoke too soon when I said that Carl's symptoms hadn't worsened earlier. Though I can't be entirely sure that its the medicine that's failing. His stress and irritation level have gone up and that adds demand to his body, which could cause things to become considerably worse. I had to think of something and quickly, or Carl's condition could go downhill before I was able to get it under control. But more medication isn't the answer. I know that. I have to get him to relax somehow. To get his mind off of everything swimming around in there. Then maybe I have a shot. I walk back into the room where he is, carrying a replacement for his wet rag, which had dried quite a bit since earlier. His face has gone pale again, which I know is not at all a good sign. As I dab the wet rag across his face, focusing on his forehead, racking my brain in the meantime for ideas.

And then one comes.

Its a long shot, but I have to give it a try.

"We need to try to get your fever down some more." I tell him, scratching the back of my head awkwardly. "Why don't... Why don't we go get a bath?"

His head snaps up, eyes darting directly to mine, "_We_?" he manages, between coughs.

"Yeah," I reply shyly. "No use in wasting more water for two separate ones."

The look on his face is priceless. He looks as if he's trying to find out if he really just heard those words come out of my mouth, or if, in his illness, he had hallucinated them. But eventually, his expression brightens somewhat, as if realizing that I'm being completely serious. He momentarily bows his head, as if to mull it all over. But he can't seem to stay that way for long, glancing up at me once more.

"Seriously?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly.

Well, at the very least, I can say I managed to distract him for the moment. Still, its embarrassing. More so because of the way he's looking at me; incredulous, as if he cannot believe I'd suggest such a thing. I scratch my head nervously a second time. Its really becoming quite a habit when I show how nervous I really am, but I think Carl finds it cute, so it may be that I'm doing it purposely. Finally, I summon the courage to nod at him.

"Alright." he replies simply.

Now its my turn to look incredulous.

I help him up out of his sleeping bag. He's still mostly stripped down from the night before, wearing on a fresh pair of briefs that we had brought along with us from the clothes we had taken from that sporting goods store several days prior. Walking somewhat behind him, to make sure he doesn't fall due to sudden weakness, we slowly descend the steps into the basement, where the tub is located. He switches on the water while I set about removing my clothing; laying them carefully on a nearby empty shelf. Carl watches me undress, which is only slightly unnerving. He has seen me without clothing on more than one occasion, but just the thought of someone watching you get undressed is... different. Something I'll have to get used to, I suppose. The tub finishes filling and I shut off the water. I decide to climb in first, so that I can be behind him. The water is cold, though not as cold as it was the previous night. Perhaps the sun had heated the pipes. Nevertheless, it nips at my skin, causing me to take a few moments longer than intended to become adjusted before I fully slip in. Carl is next, dropping his underwear, and then lifting one leg into the metallic tub. I help him the rest of the way in, and, before long, he's sitting directly between my legs, naked back against my bare skin. It takes him a moment before he finally relaxes back into my embrace.

"This feels... strange." he comments when he finally does.

"It does, doesn't it?" I return his sentiments.

Nevertheless, it doesn't keep me from wrapping arms around him, holding him steady. My more intimate area is resting right in the grove of his butt, but, to my surprise, it doesn't react. I want to pass it off on the cold water, but, then I think that couldn't truly be it. I just wasn't thinking of this situation as sexual. I can see his, and, nice as it looks, it is also flaccid. Seems we both are in a similar state of mind.

"Glenn and Maggie used to shower together," he says out of nowhere. "At the prison. I only knew because they would take their shower after I took mine, so I saw them going in a couple times."

I nod, giving him a gentle squeeze, "Its common for couples to do this." I reply. "Your mom and dad probably did too at some point."

Carl pretends to gag, which makes me chuckle.

"Don't you _ever_ bring that up again." he scolds me. "I do not want those images in my head."

My slight chuckling turns into full-blown laughter. Carl's expression is priceless; a mix between disgusted and horrified; which only makes me laugh even harder. He tries to hide it, but I can feel him beginning to tremble in my arms. Before long, even his face betrays him, a grin curling across his freckled cheeks and eventually he braves a laugh of his own. Perhaps its true what they say, that laughter is contagious. We eventually settle down, though I was clearly the more amused of the two of us, because it takes me longer to completely stop. By the time I do, my sides are sore. But in a good way. I haven't laughed that hard in quite some time. I reach outside the tub and snatch a fresh washcloth I had gotten from the kitchen prior to our bath and set to work scrubbing his back. Better to clean him first. I can always focus on myself later, should he feel the need to get out.

"Tanner?" he speaks up eventually.

"What is it?"

"There's somethin' I've been meaning to ask you..." he trails off momentarily. "For awhile now."

"Shoot." I reply, now scrubbing the base of his neck. I'm far too wrapped up in my work to wonder about what he could be wondering about.

"That day... in the woods." his voice suddenly sounds distant, and it dips in tone as it always does when he gets extra deep in thought. "When you helped me escape those walkers. Why did you come back?"

I stop scrubbing for a second to listen to him. Why was he asking me this now?

"You didn't know me." he continues. "And I pointed a gun at you the day before."

"To be fair," I cut him off suddenly to correct him. "I had a sword to your neck."

"Still," he argues. "I don't get it. Why did you save me? What if I had been a threat? Tried to kill you?"

I sit back in the tub now, folding my arms and going on a trip down memory lane. Its funny to think that only a month had passed since then, and yet, it felt like an eternity ago. Like I had somehow known Carl all my life and I was having to dig extra deep to retrieve the memories. In the old world, a month is a flash. Here one moment, gone the next. An age of clocks, calendars, near instant communication. In those days, such time passage was but an afterthought. But now every moment counted. Every day was an eternity. To survive a week, even with the proper equipment, was nothing short of a miracle. People used to measure the worth of relationships, jobs, experience, and education by the length of time they had engaged in them. Only now, as I look back at the previous month to the precise moment Carl is referring to, do I realize what an entirely stupid way of viewing time that had been. The length of time doesn't matter. What happens _during_ that time is what matters.

"The truth?" I finally say, half in a daze.

He nods, "Of course."

"Curiosity." I reply. "When I met you, the day before that, you were the first kid close to my age I had seen since the world ended. Even in the camp at Atlanta, the only kids I knew were very young. I was curious about you. When I heard the gunshot in the woods, my feet just started moving, I don't think I even willed them to move. They just... did. And then I saw you there... cornered by those walkers. I remembered finding Kyle and Sam and Liam when the walkers invaded my camp and once again my body just... moved. I think, somewhere in the back of my head, I didn't want to see another young life lost."

He doesn't respond this time, only shifting slightly, causing the water in the tub to slosh.

"One more question?" he says eventually.

"Mhm?"

"What..- What made you..." he pauses. Then I hear him exhale from his nose, quite loudly, before finishing. "Fall in love with me?"

So that's where he was going with all of this. I suppose its natural for him to ask me that. I don't think I ever told him my reasoning. To be completely honest, I never felt the need to. I had thought just loving him would be enough, but I should have known that he would ask. Carl is a naturally curious individual. Its why he gets himself into so many troublesome situations. Like me, his overwhelming sense of just wanting to _know_ everything eats away at his conscious until, eventually, he has to do something. That makes me wonder just how long he has been wanting to ask me this, and, at the same time, makes me feel bad that I hadn't just told him right off the bat.

"It was," I begin, frowning as I try to put the thoughts into words. "The night I found you crying over your dad. When you thought he had turned?"

He nods understandingly, recalling the occasion.

"I think I knew it then." I continue, slowly, as if trying to figure it out myself. "I didn't want to admit it, because I had always been of the belief that love was for jocks and cheerleaders, or overly needy people. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I only thought that because I felt alone and I hated those that were able to find an escape for that loneliness."

I look up and smile without fully realizing it, letting the memories of those early days wash back over me.

"And then there you were." I say, voice slightly cracking. "Witty, sarcastic, determined, and immensely hard headed. Not to mention competitive." He chuckles when I say that. "You just... fit. Or rather, I fit with you. Michonne caught on early. I couldn't hide it from her. I'm really surprised it took your dad so long to notice."

Carl laughs slightly, "Yeah, she's good at figuring stuff out. Nothing slips past her."

I grin, but suddenly, the urge to continue is upon me, "That's why... you don't need to do everything alone any longer. I love you. I love _you_. Not the stranger that pointed his gun at me the day we first met. Not the little sex machine you've turned into lately. Just... you. Every flaw, quirk... I love all of you. Everything that makes you who you are, Carl."

He leans back and looks at me dreamily, as if mesmerized by my words. I was kind of surprised they came out of my mouth, myself. I didn't realize I was capable of speaking in such a romantic fashion. Guess you will rise to any occasion for the person you love, eh? Reality suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks: there we are, naked as the day we were born, in a tub, taking a _bath_ together, having a deep conversation with one another. I used to think moments like this were restricted to romance novels and those cheesy old chick-flicks, but apparently, they were very much real. But I can't think any longer because a certain part of me is standing completely at attention in the worst of possible locations. And I know he feels it, because he grins rather devilishly, which doesn't help my condition at all.

Carl is not a very patient person, something I only now realize I should've added to my list when I was describing him before, and so he doesn't wait for me to make the first move. He pushes himself lightly off the bottom of the tub, allowing him to be even with my head, before pressing his lips tightly against mine. I can't help but let out a stifled groan when he prods at the entrance to my mouth with his tongue. I probably shouldn't, since he's sick, but, in the state that I'm in, reason is out the window, and so I grant him entrance. His tongue snakes its way around mine and before I know it, the two mouth muscles are dancing around each other, teasing each other, until he decides to do something different. Just as my tongue combats his, he draws it into his own mouth, closes his lips around it and sucks. Hard.

That's all my lower member needs to jump from its place between my legs, rubbing up against his inner thigh.

"Carl," I say when he frees my lips. "You're sick... we should save this until you get better."

He pouts.

Literally. Pouts.

When I say "pout", I mean puckering his lower lip, and giving me his best sad face. The whole nine yards. I have _never _seen Carl Grimes pout. Ever. And, if I'm honest, I never expect to see it again. Had I seen the kid cry? Sure. But other than that, he was not the type to show such emotions. Of course, I know he's just kidding with me, which also tells me his fever must've gone down some more, but the face he's making is melting my insides faster than the afternoon sun. But as quick as its there, its gone, replaced by a snicker. He leans down and pecks my lips one last time.

"You're right." he relents. "I don't like it. But you're right."

Why?

Why did he have to do that to me? His little pout has completely activated the launch sequence. I have half a mind to shove him against the other side of the tub and give him what he wants right then and there. Only a strand of my restraint is preventing me from doing so. I know he would welcome such an advance, especially the way he's grinning at me now, but I also know he has to recover. If he overexerts himself, he could relapse, and then we'd be in an even worse position than we were already in. Its only then that I notice that I am gripping the side of the tub like a snake's jaws would firmly hold on to its pray. Hell, my knuckles have even turned white.

"But," he continues, lifting himself out of the bath, now dripping wet in all his naked glory. "You owe me later."

Yes.

Yes I do.

####

Night has fallen again.

Carl is asleep next to me, but, as usual, sleep is eluding me. Carl's questions earlier had gotten me thinking. And now my mind refuses to shut up. Huffing aloud, I roll over on my side to watch him sleep. I had been right earlier. His fever had gone down considerably. He was lucky I had been so proactive right from the start. I shutter to think what might have happened if I hadn't. Carl's description of the illness that broke out at the prison, what he knew of it, that is, was gruesome and hopeless. I watch his chest rise and fall. Warmth sweeps across my chest, quickly spreading to the rest of my body. It suddenly hits me just how thankful I am that he is here. Alive. Sick, but alive. The thought of being alone again after a month on the road with him... with the others... was just too unbearable. Having to know that, after all we'd been through, the flu had taken him from me? That would've been even worse. I never notice the tears building behind my eyes until the spill over, dripping across my cheeks first, then off onto the floor.

I have cried since this all began.

More than I am proud to admit.

But, despite that, I have never cried long and certainly not hard.

This time is different. My chest heaves and I am forced to cover my mouth as the first gasp escapes, tears now freely rolling down my face. I can't tell whether I'm crying because I'm sad, or happy, or worried, or some weird hybrid of the three. Regardless, my chest heaves a second time, and then I'm shaking violently; tears spilling like rain to the floor. I do my best to stifle the occasional whimper that escapes. The only thought running through my head this entire time is simply, "I hope he makes it." Its irrational, because I know Carl is bullheaded, and, if something is going to kill him, its not going to be a damn flu bug. But the thought of losing him is just too unbearable and I think, after holding it at bay for so long, it has to find a way to express itself. Through an anxiety attack, mental break down, call it what you want. This was it.

A gunshot from outside snaps me out of it. Instantly.

I don't remember standing. One moment I was sitting cross-legged next to Carl. The next, I was flat on both feet, sword in hand. A second shot comes. Then a third. Carl wakes after the second, looking completely alarmed. I press my index finger to my lips to tell him not to say anything. Acting quickly, I sneak across the room and slowly pull back the curtains. The moonlight outside does its job of illuminating the graveyard outside. I can make out the form of several dead walkers, while the others are advancing towards the source of the gunshots. My blood freezes as I follow the stream of undead to the source of the gunshots. One, two, three, four...

Four people.

Not waiting to see anything more, I rush back to Carl. There are more gunshots and I know that we only have until they run out of walkers to shoot before they descend on us. Carl is in no condition to fight and furthermore, the two of us can't kill five armed assailants. Not like this.

"We have company." I whisper to him.

He snatches his gun on instinct.

"Follow me." I say.

The gunshots are still ringing out. I grab both of our backpacks, he's close behind me, and make my way towards the staircase. We both shuffle as quickly as possible down the stairs, and I shut the door behind us once we're in the lower room, pressing the lock on the knob into place. I know that will only hold them for a brief time. Especially if they are intent on getting in, but it may buy us some time. I survey the room frantically and immediately spot our salvation. This room isn't completely underground, because there are four small windows lining the top of the room. The windows are just big enough for both of us to slip out. That's when I notice the gunshots have stopped. Panicking, I point Carl to the windows, trying not to use my voice and alert attention. He seems to get what I mean, nodding as we both rush to the side of the room. Of course, as with any seemingly good thing, these windows have a catch to them. Their jammed. Carl and I direct our focus on the central window, pushing with all our might to get it open. Finally it budges. Slightly at first and then a bit more with a second push. We have it about halfway open when the sounds on the staircase begin ringing out.

Whoever was coming was talking, their voices muffled by the shut door, but it sounded like men.

Carl once more tries to shove the window open...

But its too late.

Because someone is now rattling the doorknob.

* * *

**A/N: Sundays TWD was brutal. Let's just get one thing straight: I _never_ cry at a television show. Anime, TV, I may get sad, but I never cry. The Walking Dead has already broken that twice. When Hershel died and now. No spoilers for those who haven't seen it yet, but those of you who have know exactly what I mean. There's a bit of good news with this, though. One, Rick will appear in the next episode, which means Carl and Michonne will too. That will give me some material to work with before we get to Terminus. Then its the Season Finale the following week.**

**Reviews time!**

**Vmbaby: Thank you very much for the compliments :) Means a lot to me! I do my best to provide a quality story, so I'm glad to hear that you enjoy it so.**

**the1unhelpful1monacle: This story will reach completion, I promise you that. If I lose interest in a story, its always in the first few chapters. Any story that survives that first couple will make it to the end. That said, with the Season 4 finale coming up, it will eventually have to deviate from the TV show's plot, but that's okay, because I have lots of material planned. And I can always fall back on inspiration from the comics if need be. Long story short, this story isn't going anywhere anytime soon :) Thank you for your compliments on Tanner. I do my best to make him come across as a real person. And you're absolutely right, he is in no way, shape, or form a substitute for myself. The only thing Tanner takes from me is my love of swords. I had to give him one because I just like swords and like writing characters who use them. And your anxiety proves right xD I'm very true to the flow of The Walking Dead (or as true as I can be) in giving happy moments, tempered with moments of absolute terrifying XD Its a hobby of mine. **

**Thank you both for your comments and reviews. They are much appreciated, as is all the follows, favorites, and the PM from HeadedCoffee I got this week. I hope this chapter was enjoyable and I hope the future chapters continue to be enjoyable! **

**See you guys in the next one! Later!**


	22. Breach

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

The doorknob leading into the embalming room begins to rattle.

Whoever was out in the yard was now inside... and was trying to get in here. Tanner and I had only barely managed to get the central window, which was just big enough for us to squeeze through, halfway open. Though Tanner had locked the door, I don't think it will hold for very long, especially if they get persistent. I glance next to me at him. He looks like a deer in headlights, but he doesn't stay that way, quickly returning my gaze. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Instead he mouths "_hide_". I nod furiously and the two of us duck behind the objects closest to us: he behind the tub we'd bathed in earlier, while I hid behind one of the embalming tables. The Sickness infecting my body quickly reminds me that it is still very present. My muscles start to throb, throat clenching. I can feel sweat forming across my brow, even though, to me, my body feels cold. The results of fever, no doubt. I glance backwards at Tanner, whom I can just barely see in the lighting. He puts his index finger in front of his lips, beckoning me to be as quiet as possible. I merely nod again and return my attention to the door, my gun still tight in my grip.

I can hear voices now.

They're muffled, but I can still make out words.

"What's takin' so long?" a rough male Southern accent says. "Open the goddamn door!"

"Its locked!" argues another voice which is distinctly accentless.

"Move!" the first voice barks.

There is a shuffle of footsteps. A sharp _CRACK_ causes me to flinch as the door whips open, slamming against the nearby wall due to the force it had been kicked. For the first time, I can see all of them. Four in total. All men. Only two are armed, however, which seems odd to me. They all clamber into the room and congregate in the center.

"No one in here either." a tall, muscular African-American man observes, his head swiveling around the room.

"There were sleeping bags upstairs." another man, whom I am obstructed from seeing due to my choice of hiding place, argues. "_Someone's_ been here."

"I thought you said you saw two kids holing up in here, Roman?" a third snaps angrily.

"I did!" the African-American man named Roman argues. "Saw one of those punks headin' back here the other day in the woods!"

"Then you should've nabbed him then!" the third man continues to hound the man named Roman.

"Enough!" a burly man, who I assume was the first voice I heard, snaps at them. "We'll hunker down here for the night."

I manage to crane my head just enough, while the men are still talking, to get a good look at their "leader". As luck would have it, the moon comes out from behind some of the clouds it was hiding behind, casting the room in an eerie light, giving me a perfect view of him. He's a tall man, wearing what looks to be a trench coat, with fur trim around the collar. His hair seems to be brown, though it is hard to distinguish color in the moonlight, and also appears to be quite greasy and thick. He has a goatee on his chiseled face. In fact, he reminds me of Dad, and looks to be around the same age.

"George," the man is saying to one of his other group members. "You'll be on watch tonight."

The man named George, whom I can't see from my vantage point, grumbles, but doesn't protest any further.

"What about you, Walt?" the African-American man asks their leader. So, Walt was his name.

"I'm going to keep looking around for a bit." he replies cryptically. "There's... something I want to check out. The rest of you, see if you can find out if they kept any food around here."

The other four men begin to drift out of the room and I was beginning to think the man named Walt would too, giving Tanner and I a chance to renew our attempt at escape, but oddly enough, he stays. I hear his groupmates shuffle up the stairs and then don't hear them anymore. For several painfully long moments, the room is dead silent. Nothing by the sound of the wind blowing by the half opened window, on the other side of the room, to fill the void. In fact, its so silent that I am almost starting to worry he'll hear my heart pounding relentlessly in my chest. Hear my deliberately short breaths that I'm trying my best to conceal from him. Under the table I'm hiding behind, I see his boots move finally, right towards the door. I resist the sudden urge to sigh in relief. This is it. He'll leave and Tanner and I can get the hell out of here.

But then his footsteps suddenly stop...

...and I hear the door shut. The lock click into place.

Walt sighs, then backtracks, returning to the center of the room. I want so badly to look back at Tanner. To gauge his reaction. But I can't. My muscles refuse to move. I grip my gun tighter, knowing I could have to use it at any minute. _Ready_ to use it at any minute. I start to notice just how sweaty my palms are. Likely a combination of both fear and my fever. Its causing my gun to be slick in my grip, but never the less, my hold is iron. That's when the man named Walt sighs again and speaks aloud.

"Come on out." he says in a stern inside voice. "I know someone's in here."

My breath catches. How can he possibly know we're here? I hadn't heard Tanner make a single noise. And I know for sure I hadn't. Had he somehow seen one of us hiding? And if not that, what else could've given us away? Still, there is always the possibility that he's being paranoid and doesn't _actually_ know anyone is in the room with him. Even so, I'm not taking any chances. I slowly, carefully, and meticulously switch the safety off my gun. I always kept a round in the chamber, when we had ample ammunition, so I know my gun is ready for firing at a moment's notice. From my vantage point, I see Walt raise his gun, still only in one hand and point it over to the corner where the tub is located. Where Tanner is hiding. Has he seen Tanner then? No! I can't let something happen to him. In the stress of the moment, my guard is down, and suddenly I feel my chest heave...

And I cough.

_Of all the lousy, downright stupid times to be sick!_

Walt spins on the ball of his heel, pointing his gun directly at where I'm hiding.

"Alright now," he says. "I know you're there. Come out, or I'll shoot you out."

I don't have a choice. I have to kill him before he can kill me, raise the alarm to his men, or harm Tanner. And the odds aren't exactly in my favor.

"Don't make me start counting!" the marauder hisses.

Closing my eyes, I pray, perhaps for the first time, that this goes well. And then I do the unthinkable... and stand. I'm not about to leave my guard down, though. The minute my head comes up out of my hiding place, my gun is up, pointed directly at him, and his directly at me. He seems somewhat bewildered by the sight of my weapon. Perhaps he hadn't seen too many children on the road, or maybe none at all. I doubt he had seen many with guns. Even now, closing in on two years after the world went to shit, adults tend to keep their children away from firearms. As if it is some way of clinging to the old manner of things. Nevertheless, it doesn't phase him for long, because a cruel snicker spreads across his face, illuminated by moonlight.

"You got balls, kid." his aim stays steady. "I'll give you that. Now why don't you put down the gun and don't do anything stupid."

Unfortunately for him, surrender isn't in my game plan. I'll die first.

However, suddenly, out of the corner of my vision, I see a movement in the shadows. Its almost instantaneous, but then its over. Maybe the fever was really starting to get to me. Maybe I was starting to see things. I return my gaze to Walt and narrow my eyes. I need to make a choice and fast. If I shoot him, not only will I alert his buddies, but, with the middle window open, I'll attract walkers to the funeral home. Both scenarios aren't favorable, but shooting just might be our only way out of this.

"Last chance, kid." the bandit snarls. "Drop the gun, or-"

Another movement, but this one silences him. It takes me a moment to realize who the shadowy figure is, my mind still trying to comprehend what exactly was happening, but it eventually dawns on me that its is... Tanner! He has his sword in its scabbard, and is using it to choke the man from behind. But its no easy struggle. Walt is older, stronger, and much bigger than Tanner and despite the sheer look of concentration on my boyfriend's face, I can tell he's struggling to keep his advantage.

"Watch the door!" Tanner manages to hiss at me through his teeth. "Make sure we don't get company!"

I nod furiously and turn my gun on the doorway.

I have to give Tanner credit, he was smart. He must have been waiting for Walt to drop his guard and attack from behind. It was risky, but I realize now that it is the most silent way to go about it. The two are struggling ferociously now, and Tanner drops back against the nearby wall, using it as leverage to keep him upright as he continues to use his sword's scabbard to dig into the older man's windpipe. The bandit is still fighting, however, managing to swipe upward and catch Tanner right in the eye. The back of Tanner's skull crashes into the wall and I quickly turn my gun on his situation, fearing the worst. But Tanner isn't done just yet.

"I said, watch the door!" his whisper is strained, and just loud enough for me to hear his desperation without alerting anyone upstairs.

Reluctantly, I do as he asks, though, honestly, if Walt's buddies come through that door, I'm not sure we can take all of them. Especially if they have firearms too.

Walt is now furiously clawing at Tanner's scabbard, struggling desperately to free his oxygen deprived respiratory system, but the exertion he is putting on his body is taking what precious air he has left. The struggle is becoming weaker now and Tanner is clearly in command. He tugs backwards one final time with all of his might, causing a few pain wheezes to escape the older bandit's throat, and then the older man goes limp, falling like dead weight to the floor. Tanner lets out a muted breath of relief and waits several moments, catching his breath, before saying anything.

"Quick," he finally says, still panting. "We only have a few more minutes before his friends get curious and come looking for him."

"What about him?" I whisper back, motioning towards the corpse.

Realization glints in Tanner's eyes and he quickly, but quietly, draws his long sword, jabbing down in a clean penetration through the man's skull, forever ensuring that he _stays_ dead.

He then turns to me, placing his sword back from where it came, "Help me with the window?"

Without hesitation, I nod, I lower my gun, and run to his side.

And the clock starts ticking...

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

My muscles were screaming.

I may have won the fight, but it had nearly taken all the strength I had to do it. As if that wasn't already making things more complicated, the man had managed to take a clean shot straight at my eye and I was pretty certain there was swelling. I can feel the wound throbbing, stinging, and slowly that eye's vision is going dark. But if I get out of this with just a black eye, I consider that pretty good, all things considered. Even so, the results of the scuffle were reflecting in our current predicament. Try as I might, even with Carl's assistance, the window simply wouldn't budge anymore.

"Damn!" I curse under my breath. "Its not going to open."

"What about the others?" Carl whispers, gesturing to the two other windows.

I begin to hear what I think are footsteps moving around upstairs. Someone was getting close to the stairway again.

I shake my head, "We don't have time. We're going to have to fight."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hope Carl argues with me. Tells me to continue with the windows anyways, because taking on four potentially armed bandits was the equivalent of suicide, and we both know it. But he doesn't. And that's because, as I've mentioned before, Carl Grimes is bullheaded. And if he thinks we can do it, he'll try until the last breath. Thinking on my feat, I quickly return to the dead bandit's corpse, Carl watching curiously over my shoulder. The first thing I grab is the handgun he had dropped when I had attacked him earlier and check the ammunition clip. Its full. He must have reloaded after finishing off the walkers outside in the courtyard and before coming into the basement. That was good news for us. I punch the clip back into place and begin to search his body for anything else of use. My luck is not out just yet. I find two extra clips of ammo, one of which I toss to Carl, the other I stuff into my back pocket for extra should I need it. I also find a rather unique looking knife: double-pronged, sleek black, and _very sharp_ to the touch. Slipping it back into its casing, I snap it onto my belt. I turn back to Carl, as footsteps again ring out overhead, who looks at me expectantly.

"If we're going to do this, we can't go in guns blazing." I tell him quietly. "They have to come to us."

He nods understandingly and waits for me to continue.

"We'll unlock the door," I continue, gesturing towards the door to the stairwell. "And wait on either side. The stairwell is pretty narrow, so they won't all be able to flood the room at once. If only one comes down, I'll knife him, we'll take his weapons, and move quietly upstairs."

"And if more than one comes down?" he asks, ever the inquisitive one. But its a good question.

I raise my eyebrow at him, "Shoot. By then, I'll get my gun out and we'll take out the last two."

"But what about walkers?!" he exclaims in the most hushed manner he can generate. "Won't the noise draw them?"

"I never thought I'd say this," I admit, almost chuckling to myself. "But that might actually help us. At least, until we kill the remaining bandits. After that, we'll run."

He considers it for a moment and then relents, agreeing to my plan. I strap my sword around my torso, in its usual position, and then take out my new knife. I'm surprised at how lightweight it is. Much lighter than my former wakizashi had been. It would certainly make for a good replacement for it. Carl and I both scoot over to the door, with him carefully unlocking it by pressing the switch on its knob. We then took up our place on either side of the door, with him closer to the wall, to avoid the door striking him should it swing open like it did last time. And now we wait. I didn't expect it to be a very long one. In the intermission, however, I gather my strength back to me. I can tell Carl still isn't feeling his best. His movements are sluggish and his eyes are drooping sleepily, both from a lack of sleep and also from his flu symptoms. The sudden realization hits me that this could really be it. We could both die if this goes south. And so I use what little time we have to say what could be my final words to him:

"Carl," I whisper, his head craning to glance at me. "If we don't make it out of this... I love you."

Like a line out of a romance movie, right?

Well Carl isn't as predictable and, though hard to see in the moonlight, I'm almost positive I see him grin.

"I'll get back to you," he replies. "When we get out of here."

Sometimes Carl Grimes' sheer determination leaves me speechless. Both of us are very practical individuals, and though I'm the less hot-headed of the two of us, both Carl and I are pretty good at being realistic, despite our age. The world has made us that way. But despite this, Carl has a knack for never giving up when he's got his eyes on something. And I could tell just now that he had no intention of dying here. All he can see is the finish line and that involves the two of us leaving here together. I shake my head and smile, but say no more. And just then, footsteps began to descend the steps towards the door.

"Walt!" from the voice, I can tell it is Roman, the African-American man I had seen earlier. "Are you just gonna fuck around down here all night? Walt?!"

My grip tightens on my knife's handle. The doorknob twists and then the door swings open. I am like a lightning strike, thrusting my knife upward right towards the skull, without betraying any sense of hesitation. It was a foolproof plan: the knife will go into his head, end his life silently, and then Carl and I can take down the others upstairs. But I seem to have made a slight miscalculation in my planning of things. That miscalculation was that I forgot to factor in the size of my victim in relative comparison to myself. Roman was much taller than I, and even factoring in the length of my arms, it wasn't enough. The result wasn't _completely_ disastrous. My knife slashes through the flesh, tendons, and muscles of Roman's shoulder, sending a spray of blood across my face. The wound is far from fatal and in that instant, as I lose my balance, along with him, I know things have officially gone south.

"AUUUGH!" he cries out in pain as he slams into the ground.

Its loud.

And now there is sound upstairs. Movements, scuffling, and that soon reaches the unseen top of the staircase.

"Roman?!" a voice calls out from upstairs. "Walt?! What the fuck happened?!"

The pounding on the stairs let's me know that whoever had just said that was coming.

"Carl!" I shout, abandoning my whisper. Its too late for that now.

But he doesn't need my warning. His gun goes up, taking aim at the entrance to the basement. A short, pale, bald-man practically bursts through the entrance, unobstructed by the door, and Carl takes the shot. Like my first strike, it is far from perfect, but it does what it was intended to do. I watch, almost in slow motion, as the man's leg explodes in a fountain of blood and gore - sending him slamming into the ground. Carl doesn't wait to take the second shot, and this one strikes gold, landing directly on the man's left temple, ending his life. Beside me, Roman recovers from the shock of the initial wound I had given him, and retrieves a switchblade knife from his pocket; flipping the blade into an offensive stance. My reflexes are just enough to catch his knife in between the prongs in my own, preventing a fatal strike to my larynx. But luck is not on my side this time, my strength, which I had nearly exhausted earlier, was failing again, and though I struggle hard to push him back, he is more energized than I am, and indefinitely stronger.

"Jesus Christ!" a new voice rings out.

I can't see him, due to my circumstances, but I know the third bandit has arrived to the aid of his companions.

I can only pray that Carl has control of the situation, because the second I hear the new bandit's voice, I lose Roman and I's contest of strength. He shoves, sending my knife flying out of my hand and across the floor. But that's not the end of it. He quickly climbs on top of me, using his weight to pin me down, and while I'm certainly not weak, my muscles just cannot generate enough strength to move him. Roman begins to raise his knife up and I know this is about to be it. My eyes suddenly catch an object beside me, just within arms reach. The handgun I had looted from Walt! It must have fallen out during the scuffle. Roman has now brought the knife above his head, preparing to stab down and end my life, just as I tighten my grip around the gun handle. He sees what I'm reaching for and plunges to bring me to an end. Acting on instinct alone, I swing the gun in my hand, which collides with his knuckles with a loud _CRUNCH_.

"_FUCK!_" Roman curses in pain as his own knife is sent flying across the room, out of his grip.

That's all the opening I need.

Bringing my gun back up, I press the barrel of the lethal weapon directly into my assailant's chest and pull the trigger. There is a loud _POP_ as the bullet tears through him and kills him instantly. Adrenaline is coursing through my system as I propel myself off the ground, gun in hand, and spin around to check on Carl. Instead, I turn around to find Carl in the final bandit's grasp, long kitchen knife held to his throat. I freeze.

"Good boy." the man, whom I now recognize by his voice, to be the "George" in the room earlier. "You seem to know what's at stake here."

"Tanner," Carl tries to say. "Don't worry abo-"

"Shut the fuck up!" George cuts him off venomously, pressing the knife against his neck just enough to draw a small amount of blood to the surface. He returns his attention to me. "Now, unless you want me cut your little friend's head clean off, I suggest putting your fucking weapons on the ground nice and slow."

No.

There is _no way_ I'll let him harm Carl. And if that means surrendering and dying myself, I'm more than willing to do it. My gun clatters to the ground and I'm quick to unstrap my sword, doing the same with it. Holding the knife still to Carl's neck, the bandit slides his leg out and swiftly sweeps both weapons, knocking them to the far side of the room. Far outside my reach.

"Now," George snarls. "Over here! On your knees!"

He directs me beside him and I, helpless, oblige; moving slowly, cautiously, to his side, where I crouch down on both knees. He surprises me in that moment, by shoving Carl at me rather hard, causing the young Grimes to crash into me. I catch him and Carl is quick to snap around, ready to grab whatever he can reach to attack the bandit with. However, he's unable to complete his action, as the moment he turns, we both find a gun barrel pointed at us. From the looks of the gun, he had taken Carl's weapon at some point, and was now using it to keep up under his command. I feel Carl tense in my grip, but he doesn't make another move, knowing it would be futile.

"You've both made quite a mess here." the bandit grins snidely. "To think two punks could kill three grown men. Walt, Roman, Carver... they really were pussies to get done in by you two. Still, this isn't something I can just let you both get away with."

"Go to hell!" Carl hisses.

I'm almost certain the marauder will kill us both for that response here and now. But instead, he grins sadistically.

"Well, then. You want to play it that way?" he taunts. "Fine." George lowers his gun to where it is firmly pointed at my forehead. "I'll just kill your friend first."

For the first time, in I believe ever, I feel Carl Grimes go completely cold. George notices his change in expression and cackles.

"Too late, son." he berates Carl. "Shouldn't have opened your trap like that."

George cocks the gun, places his finger on the trigger, and I close my eyes, tightening my grip around Carl's waist in preparation for the end. However, fate throws me a curve ball again, as a snarl rises up from behind the murderous bandit. My eyes snap open involuntarily, just in time to catch the reanimated form of Roman rising up behind a terrified George. In the commotion, I had completely forgotten that I hadn't been able to finish the deed with Roman, and shoot him in the head. And now, there he was, brought back as a walker. George tries to move the gun in time to shoot the looming monster, but its far too late, and Roman descends on him with a ravenous hunger, biting down with a blood crunch into George's neck.

"AAAAAAHHH!" George cries out, dropping the gun as Roman collapses on him, forcing them both to the floor.

The bandit-thing is not halted by this development and continues its gory meal, pulling out what I assume to be the veins and arteries traveling through neck, in a geyser of blood and other body fluids. In unison, Carl and I spring to our feet. He reclaims his gun, while I scurry across the room, snatching up both my gun and sword. I hear Carl cock the gun and turn just in time to see the first shot, causing the walker Roman's head to explode. Without hesitation, he turns the gun on George's mangled from and pulls the trigger again, placing a bullet in his skull for good measure.

Finally, its over.

I collapse to my knees in exhaustion, keeping my head raised, however, to observe our handiwork.

The funeral home's embalming chamber was bathed, floors and walls, in the blood of all five bandits. Their mangled corpses lie scattered across the room, where they fell, one by one, to Carl and I. Near the center of the room, Carl stands, fists balled at his sides, staring angrily down at George's partially eaten corpse. I slide my hand to the side, retrieving the last of my weapons, the new knife I had looted, and strap it back in place on my belt, before rising back up and heading toward him. Upon reaching him, I slide my arms around his waist, lean my cheek on the back of his head, and don't say a word. We stay like that for several minutes, I guess to simply comfort one another, a way of letting the other know that everything will be alright. Eventually, and very slowly, Carl turns himself around, and envelops me in an embrace of his own. His eyes are glazed over, deep in thought, or just completely zoned out. Either way, I couldn't blame him. To say that we had a "close call" was a gross understatement.

But the peace doesn't last forever.

"Hello?!" a voice rings out from upstairs, freezing my blood.

_No... Not again..._

Carl and I come apart, his gun raised, mine sword coming out again. He looks at me, as if looking for direction, some sort of answer. Perhaps he wants me to tell him we were just hearing things and that no one else could possibly be barging in on us _now._ I take the lead, weapon at the ready, and begin to ease myself up the steps. Carl is close behind me. So close, in fact, that I can almost feel his breath brushing against the nape of my neck.

"Is anyone in here?!" the voice comes again.

I stop dead in my tracks.

_Wait just one damn moment..._

I wasn't about to respond, but... there was something about that voice...

We reach the top of the steps, standing just behind the the threshold into the upper rooms. I can feel the night breeze drifting in, telling me someone has the front door open. Suddenly, I hear footsteps begin to cautiously approach. Multiple footsteps. Had another group heard all the commotion and come to loot what was left? It wasn't improbable. That central window, downstairs, was halfway open. Hell, we were lucky a herd of walkers wasn't attracted to it. The moonlight casts an eerie shadow across the wooden panels before me, showing me two figures on the approach. I decide to wait until one of them gets to the door, then I'll attack. Just like my earlier plan, only this time, I hoped my opponent wasn't that much taller than me. A creak on the board closest to the door alerts me and I spin around the corner, blade whirling around to lop off the head of my unlucky victim.

_CLANG!_

Metal strikes metal and I flinch.

Confused, I open my eyes to get a glimpse at what I hit. To my horror, its another sword. I follow the enemy sword's blade to its source, but what I find there is equally unexpected. The strength in my arms completely leave me, causing my sword to clatter uselessly to the ground. I drop to my knees and immediately begin to shutter, tears forming before I even have a chance to fully process this new situation. But, contrary to what you may think, they aren't tears of fear, or defeat, or even anguish. Carl spins around the corner, completely unaware of why I'm in tears and what is going on, but when his gun comes up and he gets a look at his target, his face brightens... and then he too turns to tears.

"C-...C-Carl?!" the voice from earlier says, quivering weakly all of a sudden.

The darkness, the apprehension, and the unexpectedness of the situation had perhaps rendered him unable to recognize us, but now, in the direct moonlight, neither of our "assailants" could deny it any more than we could. The mysterious sword wielder realizes this too and spins around to face me.

"Tanner, is that you?!" a soft, calm voice splits the silence.

"What took you two so long?" I reply, choking back a sob.

I raise my blurry vision to bring them into view and my thoughts are confirmed. The sword-wielder is a dark-skinned woman with all too familiar deadlock-style hair. The man, standing just behind her, revolver still somewhat raised, is a pale man, sporting somewhat of a beard and disheveled looking hair. And, in that moment, I can truly and honestly say that I have never been happier to see anyone in my life as I was them right now. Because standing midway through the entry room, bathed in the unbridled light of the midnight moon...

...is none other than Rick Grimes and Michonne.

* * *

**A/N: This one took a lot longer than it should've to produce lol But its out now! I hope it was enjoyable! Comment, review, follow, and favorite and I will answer any new reviews in the upcoming chapter. Expect a long one. Explanations, catching up, and the start of the final leg to Terminus inbound with the next one :D**

**See you guys then!**

**Later.**


	23. The Cabin

Morning dawns on my third day at the funeral home.

I am helping Michonne remove the bodies the bandits from the basement, dumping them around the side of the building, just outside of the cemetery. They were all four pretty heavy, so we had to drag them one at a time, but even so it didn't take too long to get the job done. She and I circle around the side of the funeral home and take a seat on the steps leading up to its porch to catch our breaths.

"I'm really glad we found you both." she says at last, having not said much since the reunion the night before. "Rick insisted you both were out there, but, we lost sight of you with the herd. I feared the worst..."

"Understandable." I reply. "Rick inside with Carl?"

"Yeah," she nods. "Hasn't left his side since last night."

I chuckle at this, "No kidding. I almost had to pry him off of Carl last night."

It was true. After Rick had realized that Carl was in the house and was alive, he had broken down into what I can only describe as blubbering. I had never seen Rick get so emotional, but I suppose, given the circumstances, that it was justified. When he finally got his arms around Carl, I thought he was going to crush his poor son. Carl was still showing signs of sickness when we woke up this morning, so Rick had pretty much devoted himself to caring for his son, though he seemed quite surprised that I had medical supplies to aid him in that pursuit. I still hadn't had a chance to tell him about the run I went on the first day were were there.

"How long has Carl been sick?" Michonne presses on.

"Since the day after the herd." I explain. "Trust me, he's a lot better than he was."

She nods understandingly, "Well, I have to hand it to you. You both did pretty good holding your own. Soon as Carl gets better, I imagine we'll be headed back towards Terminus."

As if summoned by the call of his name, the front door swings open, and Carl steps out onto the porch, trotting down several steps, and plopping down beside me. We don't greet each other verbally. Instead, he flashes me a smile, and I return it, slipping my arm around his waist in the process to hold him tight to me. His fever has improved once again, so it is only a matter of time before his recovery is over. As can be expected, his mood has also drastically improved now that Michonne and Rick have found us again. I haven't seen him smile so brightly in days. It warms my heart more than the morning sun was warming up my skin. Rick isn't far behind him, being the second one out the door, taking up a seat just behind Michonne, Carl, and I two steps up. For the longest time, the four of us sat in complete silence, all of us with stupid grins on our face, clearly happy with our luck. However, a question bubbles forth from the back of my mind, so I turn to Rick to ask him.

"How exactly did you two find us?" I ask.

"We didn't know it was you for sure." he replies in his thick Georgian accent. "We just heard the gunshots."

"And you came close?" I am perplexed. "What if it had been more danger?"

"Rick insisted we investigate anyway," Michonne suddenly speaks up. "On the off chance that it _was_ you. Just in case you were in danger."

"And I was right." Rick asserts.

"We handled ourselves alright." Carl counters.

Rick sighs, but out of the corner of my eye, I see him nod in agreement, "That you did." he admits.

There is a brief pause as we all return to our thoughts, but soon Michonne changes the subject.

"How are we doing on supplies?"

"Counting everything that Carl and Tanner have, we're doing pretty well." Rick replies, nodding his head in a rather pleased manner. "Which reminds me... How did you two come across all that medication?"

Carl twists in my grip and looks at me before looking back at his father.

"Tanner got it." he replies truthfully.

"Alone?" Rick's voice makes it sound as though he genuinely couldn't believe I had gone on a run by myself.

Now its my turn to look behind me, "Didn't have a choice. Carl was sick, so he couldn't go, and we needed those meds." I explain.

I fully expect him to ask the details. Where I had gone, what I had done, the whole nine yards. Instead, he is stunned to silence. I catch Michonne grinning out of the corner of my eye, but my attention is focused primarily on Carl, who has decided to lean his head against my shoulder. In response, I tighten my grip around Carl's waist. Its always nice to be coiled together with him, while watching the sun rise no less. The morning sun is finally beginning to peak over the trees as it continues its ascent into the sky. Eventually, Rick stands and begins to climb the stairs again, heading towards the front door of the funeral home.

"We should get going soon." he says, his hand on the doorknob.

Perplexed, I crane my head to get a better view of him, "Shouldn't we wait until Carl's back at a hundred percent?"

He pauses, the door now half open, but before he can reply, Carl speaks up.

"I'll be fine." he assures me. "I'm well enough to travel."

"Get your things." Rick says. "We leave in an hour."

And with that, he enters the building.

####

It feels good to be on the move again.

An hour and a change of clothes later, we're back in the woods, heading towards the nearest set of train tracks. The air is chilly this morning, but I don't particularly mind. I had began to become accustomed to the intense Georgia heat, so any break from that was welcome. Carl, Michonne, and I walk side-by-side through the underbrush, with Rick several feet ahead. Carl was moving slower than usual due to still being in recovery, so I had decided to slow down and walk with him. I don't exactly know Michonne's reasons for staying back with us, but, like me, she has always done her best to support Carl, so I suppose her reasoning was similar to mine. We walk in silence for much of the way, nothing but our thoughts and the sound of the birds to distract us. It isn't long, though, before the trees start to thin out and we emerge onto a desolate road. Rick stops to retrieve his map from his knapsack to check our position, so the three of us take this opportunity to catch up with him completely.

"We should be coming up on a set of tracks here pretty soon." Rick announces as we all look over his shoulder at the map.

It is the first time I have had a close up look at a map in quite sometime and so, for the first time in awhile, I know exactly where we're at. Peach County, Georgia. If my recollection of the Terminus map we saw weeks ago was correct, then Terminus was in neighboring Macon County, Georgia, in the namesake city of Macon. I perk up at this revelation. We're at the proverbial neighbor of our destination, the closest we'd ever been to it, given how sidetracked we had become after running into Nat's group.

"How close are we?" Carl asks. I forget, sometimes, that he is still shorter than me and cannot seem to get a decent view of the map from his position.

"Pretty close," Rick replies. "See this city?" He points to a mark in the lower corner of the county and I move aside so that Carl can see. "That's Fort Valley. Part of the Macon metropolitan area, where Terminus is said to be."

Carl's reaction is similar to my own, as he immediately seems to brighten, "So then, we should make it there today?"

Rick shakes his head, "Not today, but tomorrow is a possibility, and for sure the next day."

Carl can't seem to hide the grin that comes across his face.

But, then again, we're all smiling. We haven't been in a single location for longer than a few days the entire month. And while no one had really complained about it then, after the herd split us up for three days, I think we all collectively want to get to a single location that we can call home for longer than just a few days. Rick folds the map up and returns it to the side pocket of his knapsack. We start off again, crossing the road to the other side, and entering the woods again from there. Its a much shorter walk this time around, and eventually, we come out of the trees onto a set of railroad tracks. Immediately to our right was an abandoned rail car, and sure enough, there was a familiar sign attached to it.

"Who has the time to put all of these up?" Michonne wonders aloud, scanning over the map.

"Someone desperate to find survivors." I comment absently, studying the map alongside her.

A noise off to our side draws both Michonne and I's attentions. A single walker is wandering out of the woods, but something is not quite right about it. Its charred. Completely burnt to a crisp, and yet, somehow it keeps walking. A second walker, in almost the exact same condition, lumbers out of the woods behind it, and then a third. I start to reach for my weapon, but Michonne silently places her hand on my chest, stopping me from doing so. Clearly she intends to take care of them herself, as she promptly draws her sword, trots down the tracks and swats the walkers with the sharp end of her blade. Their charred skin easily slices apart and within seconds, she's dispatched them.

"They're still burning." she comments, standing of their corpses.

Indeed, I could see the smoke rising off the charred mound of bodies.

"What could've caused this?" I ask, airing my thoughts out loud.

Michonne shrugs, but Carl's voice directs my attention behind me.

"I think I know." he says.

Both Michonne and I follow his line of sight and receive our answer. Though it seems to be miles away, there is a massive pillar of smoke rising up into the sky. The first thought that flies through my mind, upon seeing it, is just what could have caused an inferno that large? I don't remember having heard an explosion and it there hasn't been a storm for three days, so that rules out a lightning strike. Whatever it was, it was drawing walkers to the area, causing them to burn and char. However, more unnerving than any of that, is that the pillar of smoke is in the direction we're heading. Rick seems to notice this too and quickly turns to us.

"Let's keep our wits about us." he warns.

We collectively nod in agreement before taking off down the tracks once again. This time, Michonne stays up with Rick, leaving Carl and I trailing a few feet behind.

"What do you think?" I ask him after a time.

He glances again at the pillar of smoke in the distance and then turns back to me, "I dunno. Maybe a grass fire. Seems pretty big, though." he observes.

The trees begin to thin again, opening up to a large clearing, at the edge of which is a large bridge which crosses over what I suspect to be a river of some sort. Of course, the bridge itself is not what initially draws my attention, but rather, what is on it. Several derailed train cars are clustered towards the center of the bridge, one of which was completely on its side. Rick put his hand up, indicating for us to stop again. He and Michonne stop to observe the wreckage from a distance, giving Carl and I a chance to catch up to them.

"There doesn't seem to be anything moving." Rick says as we come up on them.

"We should check it out." Michonne suggests.

Rick nods and then promptly turns to Carl and I, "You two stay here and watch our flank. We don't want to get snuck up on."

Without waiting for our response, both Rick and Michonne begin to take off towards the train wreckage. In the meantime, I follow Carl a few feet off the tracks to take shelter from the sun underneath the edge of the trees. The break, combined with the shade of the trees, and the soft breeze blowing through them is very refreshing. The forest is fairly quiet, save for the sound of the birds, and there doesn't appear to be any walker activity that I can tell. Carl seems to be more bored than anything else. Luckily, it doesn't take Rick and Michonne long to scout the wreckage before returning to us, looking almost bored themselves.

"No sign of anything." Michonne announces as they arrive at where we're standing.

"What is this place?" I ask Rick as he comes up behind her.

"According to the map, its the Ocmulgee River. Runs right through Macon further down the line, so it makes sense that there is a rail line here." he explains. "My father use to take me bass fishing on this river when I was just a boy."

"Is the bridge safe enough to cross?" Carl chimes in.

Rick nods, "It is." his voice trails off.

"But?" I say, knowing he's not telling us everything.

"I was thinking we should stay here for the day." he replies.

"But its barely midday!" Carl exclaims, perplexed by his father's logic. "Shouldn't we try to go further? And why would we stay here?"

"You know," Michonne interjects, grinning mischievously. "All the questions you ask? You could be a spy... or a cop."

Rick ignores her joke and turns his attention to his son, "We're not in a rush. We're on the right track and should make it to Terminus in time. But we won't find a much better place to camp than here. We'll have the water to our back and we can fish for food to save our rations."

"Fish?" Now it's my turn to butt in. "But we don't have any equipment for that."

Rick motions for us to follow him and so, perplexed, we do. Across the tracks, now in plain view of the opposite side of the bridge, Rick points out a small cabin on the other side of the bridge. It is slightly hidden by the trees, but still quite easy to see from here.

"We'll have shelter, fresh water, and there should be supplies in there that would allow us to fish for food." Rick continues.

Carl still doesn't look convinced. Of course, having spent every day for the past month with him, I have an inkling as to what he's thinking. He knows that Maggie and possibly Daryl and Glenn are alive and, at least Maggie, is on her way to Terminus. I suspect that he is anxious to reach Terminus to confirm whether or not his friends from the prison made it out as he had been so hoping they had. Sensing this, I quickly move to his side, placing my hand lightly on his shoulder, snapping his attention from his father back to me.

"Its not a bad idea." I tell him. "We can eat until we're content if we catch enough, which is rare these days, and can get a fresh start for the final push in the morning.

He studies me for several moments, very visibly conflicted. Finally, though, he relents, nodding his head in agreement and, with that, we start off towards the bridge. The water is a loud roar beneath us, which is a nice change of pace from the eerie silence that I have become so accustomed to in the cities and towns of Georgia over the past year and half. Combine that with the near perfect weather conditions we're experiencing today and its almost easy to forget the world has gone to hell. We have to climb over some of the wreckage at the center of the bridge, but overall, its an eventless walk to the other side. Upon reaching the cabin, Rick is swift to break the locked door, allowing us to enter. The sunlight filtering through the windows is plenty enough to illuminate the first room. Michonne knocks loud on the side wall, attempting to draw out any of the undead that may be trapped within, but after almost a minute of trying that at regular intervals, we conclude that there are no walkers inside and that it is safe to proceed.

"Split up?" I suggest, figuring we'd do things the way we always have.

Rick nods, "Yes, but first," he reaches into his bag and retrieves a flashlight, tossing it to Carl. "Use that."

Rick and Michonne take one doorway while Carl and I took the adjacent door. Amazingly enough, the cabin looks virtually untouched. Perhaps its owners weren't in it when the apocalypse happened. Either way, other than the smell of old dust, the place was amazingly clean and preserved. Carl and I quickly locate the kitchen. Rummaging through the cabinets reveals a fairly decent stash of canned food and bottled water. To top things off, while searching through some of the lower drawers, Carl manages to find some plastic fish baits that we could use for later. We were just about to return to the front room to wait for Rick and Michonne when a slight hum rings out through the air. We both stop in our tracks and stare at each other. But before either of us can ask what it is, the lights above us start to flicker, and then, in that same instant, turn completely on.

"The lights are working?!" Carl exclaims.

As if on cue, Rick and Michonne round the corner into the hallway we're standing in, both sporting huge grins.

"This place has electricity?" I ask them, rather incredulous myself.

"Must be hooked up to some sort of water turbine on the river." Michonne replies.

"There were a couple of rods in the backroom as well." Rick mentions. "So we can head out to the river. See if there's anything biting."

He promptly turns around and heads off to retrieve the gear.

I turn to Carl, "_See?_ Aren't you glad we stopped now?" I goad, poking his shoulder.

"You're pushing your luck, Tanner." he bites back, trying to fight a smile.

That's all I need to know that I have won. Try as he might, he can't hide his smile from me. And so, that matter settled, we turn and follow Michonne to find Rick.

####

Fishing was a flop.

Not because we didn't catch anything.

We did.

Quite a lot, in fact. Or rather, Carl and Rick did. I, on the other hand, completely sucked at it. It was actually quite embarrassing. If my line wasn't getting caught, I wasn't getting a bite. To make matters worse, fishing was quite possibly one of the most boring activities I have _ever_ participated in. Not that I told Carl that, because he seemed to genuinely have enjoyed himself and I didn't want to kill his enjoyment, but make no mistake, I was thinking it. Michonne didn't fish at all, instead she spent the entire time keeping watch for walkers. I imagine that was almost an equally boring job, but if she felt that way, she never let on about it. Either way, we return to the cabin just as the sun starts to slip down in the sky. Despite the fact that we have electricity in the cabin, Rick insists on cooking on a fire outdoors, which nobody argues with. And when we finally sit down to eat, I must admit, I am quite famished.

"Tanner, slow down." Michonne chuckles after watching me wolf down part of my meal. "You're going to choke."

Normally, I would be embarrassed by the fact that I was eating like a pig. But tonight? Not happening.

"Sorry," I say anyways. "Its been awhile since I had cooked... anything."

She nods understandingly, "It's been awhile for us too." she notes. "Since..."

"Since the prison." Carl blurts it out bluntly, but I can hear the edge of solemnness in his voice.

Michonne sighs audibly and Rick simply stares. No one says anything. Even a month after the prison fell, just the mention of it was enough to bring the three of them down. And, similarly, after a month of traveling with them everywhere, it was starting to have a similar effect on me. I wasn't at the prison. I didn't know the people they knew, nor did I know what they went through to get there. I have heard stories, of course, but that's hardly anything like actually experiencing it. Nevertheless, I knew what it was like to lose your safe-haven and everyone in it, and so I was able to at least empathize with their pain and mourning. We finish eating in silence, just as dusk is beginning to fall on Georgia, and, after cleaning up, prepare to head inside. There a three bedrooms within the cabin, each with their own bathroom, which was a luxury I hadn't experienced in quite sometime. It was generally accepted that Carl and I will be sharing a room, even though nobody really announces it. And so, after saying our "good nights", we all retire to our individual rooms.

"Think the shower works?" Carl asks, investigating the bathroom.

I approach him from behind and peek over his shoulder, "If the electricity works, I don't see why the water wouldn't." I finally reply.

He pauses. Then a mischievous grin creeps across his face, "Wanna take one with me?"

I grin back. I know where this is heading, "Sure. Let me run down the hall and see if there are any towels."

He nods and takes off into the bathroom to set about getting it ready. I, in the meantime, turn around and head back towards the hallway. As I suspected, there was a central closet with a small towel rack. The towels in no way smell fresh, but they don't seem dirty either, so I figure that they couldn't hurt us. But just as I shut the door, I see a figure move into the hall, which startles me, causing me to jump. On second inspection, I see that it is Rick, who has come out into the hall and is just standing by his doorway.

"I was actually about to come find you." he says. He notices my cargo. "About to shower?"

I think quick on my feet, not wanting to reveal Carl and I's intentions, though it should be fairly obvious, "Uh, yeah. Wanted to make use of the running water while we had it."

He nods.

"So," I ask awkwardly. "Why did you want to find me?"

It is perplexing. Rick talks to me when I talk to him, or when he needs to give Carl and I instructions on something. But he never actively seeks me out for conversation, so this was definitely a first. It was unsettling in a way. He glances at the ground for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts, before returning his gaze to mine.

"I never thanked you." he says.

I raise an eyebrow at him, "Thanked me? For what?"

Now its his turn to look confused, "For what?" he repeats. "For looking after Carl when we got separated. I imagine that must've been... taxing on you."

"It wasn't." I reply honestly. "Carl and I are a good team. We look out for _each other. _You don't have to thank me."

His gaze softens somewhat, "You know," he abruptly changes gears. "When Carl first told me you two were... together, I didn't accept it immediately."

I again shoot him a confused look, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I thought it was just a heat-of-the-moment type of thing." Rick explains. "You guys were new friends, a lot of stuff had happened, and I thought that perhaps you were looking to each other for morale support and just _thought_ you were in love."

As he explains this to me, I can see how he would arrive at that conclusion. Carl had sort-of dropped the bomb spontaneously on him. Don't get me wrong, I am glad he did it when he did, because I hated sneaking around all the time, but I can see how Rick would've thought of that as just a "spur-of-the-moment" decision.

"At the barn, after the whole deal with Nat," he continues. "I started to see it was something a bit more than what I had originally thought, but I still thought that maybe, eventually, you'd both grow out of it. But this... this changed my mind entirely."

I can't help but smile softly. It felt... triumphant, somehow, to have Rick really acknowledge Carl and I's bond. I had always suspected that he didn't fully accept it, but now I knew that he had risen above that.

"Anyways," he shakes his head. "I'm not good at profound words or anything like that. I just wanted to thank you. I know he'll never be like he was before..." he trails off. "...Well, before all of this. But, with you, he can laugh and have a decent friendship. I'm grateful."

I scratch the back of my head bashfully, "Like I said, no need to thank me. I'm happy... being there for him."

"I know." he replies rather quickly. "Now, go enjoy your shower. We have an early morning ahead of us."

I nod and wave goodnight to him before taking off with the towels back towards Carl and I's room. Even though I'm almost positive no one will disturb us now that Rick has had his heart-to-heart with me, I don't want to take any chances, so I lock the door behind me. I then head straight across the room for the bathroom, from which I can already hear the water running. I poke my head in and immediately feel all the blood in my body rush to my face, turning it redder than a cherry in three seconds flat. Having grown tired of waiting, I suppose, Carl has sat himself down on the edge of the tub... completely stark naked. Upon seeing my head come through the door, he throws his hands up in the air.

"Where have you been?!" he exclaims in mock rage.

"Sorry," I apologize, slipping into the room and sitting the towels on the counter, locking the door behind me for good measure. "I got... sidetracked."

I consider telling Carl about my talk with Rick; about what he said. But he's looking at me with such expectancy, and I know I've kept him waiting long enough, so I decide to tell him another time.

"Whatever," he shakes his head with a grin. "Check this out."

He pushes the curtain of the shower aside and gestures for me to feel of the water. So, curious as to what he is so excited about, I stick my palm under the stream, and immediately am impacted by a warm sensation. The water was hot! Though, thinking about it now, if the electricity works here, that also meant that if there was an electric water heater, the water could become hot too. Suddenly, I'm as ecstatic as Carl is. I haven't had a hot shower since shit hit the fan, so this was definitely a treat. I make short work of my clothes, tossing my shirt on the counter, dropping my pants and boxers and kicking them to the side of the room, and then we both climb in after each other, and pull the curtain shut. The sensation of hot water against my skin is heavenly. And even that description may be a severe understatement. It feels so good, in fact, that Carl and I stand there for several moments just basking in the heat of the water.

Before long, however, we set about washing.

Its his turn first, so I grab the bar soap sitting nearby and he allows me to lather him up really good. I might note that this time seems completely different from our short bath at the funeral home the night prior. We don't talk. Don't joke around. We simply enjoy each other's company and the magnificent heat coming from the water. I later up his hair last, which is a rather nice experience, getting to run my fingers through his dirty hair. Once he's completely covered in suds, and I'm pleased with my work, I step aside so that he can stand completely under the jet and rinse off. Once he's clean, he almost seems to glow, and he definitely looks as though he's feeling better. As though the sickness that has been bothering him for days is finally run its course and gone away. It was a happy thought for me, as I'm sure it was for him. Done cleaning, he repeats the process on me, though I have to bend over slightly for him to reach my hair, as he's still not quite my height. I'm not afraid to admit that it was a rather sensuous experience. His hands went just about everywhere on me. I have no clue how I made it through the entire experience without having any sort of erection, but I manage somehow. And in the end, after I rinse off, I simply hold him, my arms around his torso, as we relax under the hot water.

I don't know how long we took, but after we were tired of the heat, we climb out of the shower and dry ourselves.

After a nice warm shower, bed feels heavenly, a sensation that was only enhanced when Carl crawled in next to me. At first we simply lay there and relax, enjoying the peace and quiet. However, after several moments, a thought enters my head.

"Hey," I break the silence, sly grin coming across my face. "I believe I still owe you."

He smiles, but I can tell, from the way his eyebrow goes up as he turns over, that he doesn't remember what I'm talking about.

"Remember last night?" I try to jog his memory.

He thinks for a moment and then his eyes suddenly brighten as the memory hits him, "Oh yeah!" he exclaims in a hushed tone. "You _do_ owe me."

"That I do." I repeat chuckling. "You too tired?"

"Pssh." he laughs. "No way."

"Alright then," I reply. "Turn over."

I don't wait for his mind to compute what I had told him to do, instead opting to push him over onto his stomach. He looks back at me perplexed.

"You want to do _that_ right off the bat?" he asks.

"Nope." I tell him, tossing back the blanket so that I have a better view. "Something new."

When I think back on the past month, in terms of sexuality, Carl has changed immensely. Having gone from a kid that knew almost nothing about sex, to someone who knew a little _too_ much. And, ironically, it was all my fault. I have purposely avoided doing what I'm about to do to him in our previous encounters, not knowing whether or not he'd enjoy it, but I decide to throw caution to the wind tonight and give it a shot. If Carl finds it unpleasant, he'll let me know. He's not shy about such things. I decide to work my way up to it, however, swinging a leg over him so that I have one on either side. I then lean down and gently kiss the back of his neck, sending a shiver, that even I can feel, right down his spine. I grin at his reaction, but he makes now movement to stop me, so I continue. I trail similar kisses down his exposed back, stopping briefly at his hip, right above his butt, to suck on the skin, leaving a small hickey behind. Finally, I'm at my destination. I can hear him breathing heavy, so clearly he's enjoying the ride. Now to see if he'll enjoy _all_ of what I have planned for him. Placing my hands on either side of his hips, I pull him up slightly, so that his butt is just barely in the air.

I can see him looking back at me, almost curiously, his face as red as my own, which cutely accents his freckles. I tease him slightly, kissing one of his cheeks, and then the other. His response is initially a gasp and then, with the second kiss, another shiver to rival his first. At that point, I decide its now or never, and I slightly pull apart his cheeks, exposing his entrance and run my tongue over the hot orifice. And it is hot. Burning hot compared to the rest of his skin. I hear him stifle a yelp in his pillow, as he was clearly not expecting me to do that. As I had expected, his head jolts up out of the pillow and he's immediately asking questions.

"You can _do_ that?" he asks, completely shocked.

"I can," I reply simply, embarrassed I'm having to answer these questions again. I just wasn't good about explaining this stuff. Especially in the middle of doing it.

"But..." he trails off. "Isn't it gross?"

I laugh this time, "Not if you're clean." I reply honestly. "And I washed you myself, so I know you're clean."

He seems to accept this, and then, to my surprise, lowers his head back into the pillow. I had fully expected him to launch into a full series of questions, but he seems to have all the answers he needs. Perhaps that means that he really did like it. I shrug slightly to myself and then lower my head to complete the job I set out to do. My tongue brushes against him again, and again. Every now and then, I lift my head up and plant kisses on his cheeks as I did earlier, which he seems to enjoy equally. I then take one of my hands and reach underneath him, taking hold of his manhood, and start stimulating him there at the same time. The result is that he's completely lost in sexual bliss. His head is cutely turned to the side, mouth gaping open, and eyes screwed shut. I don't think I've ever seen him in that much ecstasy. Then again, I could hardly blame him. Being stimulated from both ends, I'm sure, was a completely rapturous experience. He lasts only a few minutes after that, before I feel him release his seed right into the palm of my hand. I take time licking up his offering. It had been several days - since the sporting goods store - since I had gotten a good taste of him. In the meantime, he looks completely spent, laying limply on the bed; a dazed expression on his face.

But, as with any teenage boy, his stamina quickly recovers, and before I can completely understand what he's doing, he has pushed me backwards and lowered his head into my lap. When his mouth latches on to my solid hard member, my eyes screw shut on instinct, as my nervous system is flooded with intense sensations; all pleasant. Carl wastes no time, twirling his tongue around it, before putting as much in as he can handle and then sucking on it. My body is completely overloaded with pleasure, and the only movement I'm able to make is the short, unsteady gasps escaping my mouth as if I was in pain. Shortly after, he does something he's never done before, and its subtle enough that I think he did it by accident; he lightly drags the edge of his teeth along the base of my length, not enough to hurt it, but just enough to send electrical impulses jolting through me. And at that point, I've lost all control of my body. He seems to realize this and prepares himself just in time for the first shot to hit the back of his throat.

After he has released me, I crawl up next to him, and we both lay side-by-side, sweating and panting as we regain our stamina.

Soon, I muster up enough strength, and force myself to roll over so that I'm facing him. His face says everything I need to know. His eyes have drooped sleepily and he looks to be in somewhat of a daze. I know he's done enough for one night. He'd probably insist he could go on, but I know him better than that, so I decide not to press the matter. Instead, I pull the covers back over us, and drape my arm over him. For a moment, I think he's drifting off into sleep, as his eyes close and his breathing begins to slow. Instead, he surprises me when he stretches his neck, moving his head up towards mine, and planting his lips right on top of mine. I don't fight him, granting him entrance, and before long, his tongue and mine are dancing around each other as they've so often come to the past month. The kiss is long, passionate, and overall enjoyable and before long, I find myself more actively participating in it; tugging his lower lip in, at one point, and gently sucking on it. We come apart with a rather noisy _SMACK_ and smile, in unison, at each other.

Finally done with our activities for the night, he rolls over, pressing his back into my stomach while allowing me to drape my arm over him once again. Its a tight embrace, but very comfortable, if I do say so myself. He sighs happily and soon I do the same. I feel his hand slip up from underneath the blanket and grab the hand I have draped over him. He laces our fingers together in a strong grip and then holds both of our hands close to his chest. Its a rather sweet gesture, which makes me smile, both outwardly and inwardly.

"Carl," I finally murmur in the darkness.

"Hm?" he grunts, eyes now closed.

"The world may be hell out there," I continue. "But as long as we stick together... everything will be okay."

That's a big thing to promise these days. Some might even consider it naive. But after everything we've been through this past month, I believe every word of what I've just said. He seems to concur, because he squeezes the hand he has a hold of. In a way, I think what I said had some sort of comforting effect on him. I know he's worried about the possibility of either reaching Terminus only for it to be a sham, or reaching Terminus and discovering that the friends he thought had survived, hadn't. Just knowing that I can, even slightly, ease his anxiety is enough for me.

"I hope you're right." he eventually replies in true Carl Grimes fashion.

But I know I'm right.

Somehow, someway, we'll make it.

Somehow...

And with that, he sighs one last time, smiling rather happily in the process, and drifts off to sleep. And I'm not too far behind...

* * *

**A/N: A longer chapter than the past couple have been, so I hope it was enjoyable! Tomorrow is the new episode, and Carl, Michonne, and Rick seem to be in it, so I'll have some new scenes to work with in the next chapter. With any luck, Terminus will at least be reached tomorrow, or there will be some kind of reunion and that can go in there too. Either way, Terminus should be popping up soon, both in the show and here in the story! I know you've all been waiting on it, so I hope the wait, and the build up to it in both stories have been worth it!**

**On to the reviews:**

**Obtained: Tanner is a bit more naive then Carl when it comes to that sort of thing. Yes, he knows bad things can happen at any moment, and 9 times out of 10, they do, but Tanner is the more hopeful of the two of them. I think he tries to look for the silver lining in any situation, whereas Carl has just accepted that shit always happens no matter what. So that maybe what you're picking up on. I purposely built that bit of naivety into his character because if both he and Carl always look for the bad in any situation, then Tanner can't really be much help for Carl on the morale side of things, and I wanted him to be a character that could lift Carl's spirits, even if his approach sometimes comes across as naive. You can even kinda see that in the ending of this chapter. Anyways, thanks for the comment! Hope you enjoyed :)**

**HunterArk: Thank you for the compliment! :D I'm glad you, and others, have really warmed up to Tanner as a good character. As an author, it makes me only want to work harder to continue to live up to that expectation! I hope you continue to enjoy the story :)**

**Thank you both for the compliments and the feedback!**

**Next chapter should be out after the TWD episode Sunday, or sometime on Monday, as usual.**

**Until the next one!**

**Later.**


	24. The Bet

I am awakened by the sensation of someone nudging my shoulder.

Who? I can't be sure. I'm far too groggy to tell.

At first, I do my best to ignore it. The bed is comfortable and I have slept rather peacefully so far, so I'm not in any mood to get out of it just yet. But just as my mind is about to drift off to dreamland once again, the sensation is back, bringing me right back out into a dazed state. This time, I shift over in the bed a little bit, thinking that whatever is causing that sensation will stop once I'm away from it. But it doesn't, because just as I settle in again, I feel it a third time. The suspicion dawns on me that Carl might be the culprit behind whatever is going on with me, so, I decide to speak up without opening my eyes:

"Carl, knock it off." I grumble in my gruff morning voice. "Wanna sleep a bit longer."

The sensation relents and I believe that I can get back to sleep. But I was too optimistic, because once I am finally comfortable, I am nudged again, a fourth time. Realizing that I can never get back to sleep at this point, I abruptly jolt up in bed, eyes snapping open to see who or what was disturbing my extremely peaceful slumber.

"Carl, I said-" but my voice is cut off upon noticing that it is not, in fact, Carl causing my dilemma.

"Get up." the ever stoic voice of Michonne comes from the bedside.

The sudden realization that I am still naked from the night before causes my face to heat up super quickly. Luckily, my lower half is covered by the sheets, but that doesn't make me any more comfortable about the situation. Especially if Michonne had noticed. My gaze drifts around the room to see if Carl is still around, but his half of the bed is completely empty. And then it dawns on me that I had locked the door the previous night, causing me to snap my attention back to Michonne.

"How the-?"

She cuts me off again before I can finish.

"Carl unlocked it." she replies, suddenly grinning. "Sent me in to wake you once Rick started making breakfast."

I blink once. Twice.

He sent her in _here_? To wake me? When he _knows_ I slept naked?

_Oh, I am sooooo going to get him for that._

Luckily, Michonne doesn't seem to have realized why I am so jittery. Or, at least, if she does, she's not teasing me about it. Instead, she folds her arms and fixates her gaze on mine.

"So?" she says. "You coming or not?"

"Y-yeah," I stutter, hoping she'll leave so that I can at least get dressed. "Just give me a minute."

Her eyebrow goes up, giving me a suspicious glance, but eventually she shrugs, nods, and leaves, closing the door behind her to my great relief. Wasting no time, I fly out bed and snatch a change of clothes from my backpack. I don't think I have ever dressed that quickly in my entire life. Its a simple T-shirt, jeans with a hole in the knee area, and black socks. I grab my jacket just in case. The previous couple of mornings have become progressively colder, so it doesn't hurt to wear something that will keep me somewhat warm. Finally, I slip into my shoes and leave the room.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

Tanner emerges from the cabin several minutes after Michonne had, looking as though he had just thrown his wardrobe on.

I snicker when I catch the look that comes across his face upon spotting me.

I had sent Michonne in to wake him instead of doing so myself, partially because I was hungry and wanted to eat, and partially because I knew that he would find it extremely embarrassing, which was an amusing sight, I must admit. I return to eating what Dad had cooked: some of the left over un-cooked fish from the night before. Tanner casually walks over towards us, but when he reaches me, he presses his balled fist into my hair and grinds his knuckles there, in what has to be the first noogie I have received since Dad use to give them to me before the world went to shit.

"Ow!" I whine. "What the hell was that for?!"

I pause when I realize I had swore within earshot of Dad.

"Carl!" Dad predictably reacts. "Watch your mouth!"

I grumble at his scolding, wondering why he _insists_ I not cuss, yet does it himself. Tanner parks himself directly next to me and is now sporting a malicious grin of his own.

"_That_," he replies in a whisper. "Was for sending Michonne in to wake me up, knowing full well I wasn't wearing shit under those covers."

I couldn't resist chuckling at that, causing Michonne to look at me funny, probably wondering what was so funny. Dad joins us shortly after, handing Tanner a plate of breakfast, before sitting down and starting on his own. The morning is chilly and almost eerily silent. Not even the sound of chirping birds to keep us company. The sound of the river below us helps ease that slightly. I have to admit, part of me would love to stay here, at this cabin. Electricity powered by water, so it was likely to never go completely out, a constant source of food and fresh water, and shelter with beds and warm water to boot. It was nearly paradise. But, at the same time, I didn't want to stay. I had seen the signs. Maggie was out there. Possibly Glenn. On two separate occasions, we've run into crossbow bolts that look exactly like the ones Daryl always used. And, on top of all of that, I knew for certain, due to the signs, that at least Maggie was heading for Terminus. We _have_ to get there.

"Think we'll make it there today?" I ask no one in particular, just to break the silence.

Dad swallows the food in his mouth before turning his gaze on me, "Hard to tell." he replies. "We'll get close at the very least."

"We should head out soon if we intend to cover much ground." Michonne points out.

Dad nods, "After we get done eating, everyone fan out, grab any supplies you can find. Then we'll leave."

It was a sound plan and, upon finishing up, I went back inside to do just that. Tanner wasn't far behind me. He hadn't said much since he had woken up earlier, which made me wonder if he was actually upset about me sending Michonne in to wake him up. So when we reach our room to search for anything useful, I shut the door gently behind me and confront him about it.

"You aren't actually mad about earlier," I ask carefully. "Are you?"

Tanner turns to me, looking somewhat perplexed, "No." he replies truthfully. "Why would I be?"

I resist the urge to sigh in relief.

"You've just been quiet all morning." I explain. "Too quiet."

"You tryin' to say I'm _normally_ a loud mouth?" he snaps, though the grin that spreads across his face tells me he's just kidding.

I shake my head and chuckle, "Never mind."

I set to work checking the drawers of the nearby nightstand for anything important. Tanner, in the meantime, slips into the closet in the corner of the room and begins conducting his own search. Overall, there really is nothing useful for us in here. Finally, after my search turns up fruitless, I look up to see what Tanner is doing. He is emerging from the closet, but something is different about him. Its quickly apparent that something is his wardrobe. He has found a black coat which appears to have some sort of black fur around the collar and fits him quite well, and is now wearing it.

"What do you think?" he says, showing it off. "Kinda dusty, but it works."

"Looks decent." I reply, smirking at him reveling in his new coat. "Anything else in there?"

He cranes his neck and glances back into the closet.

"Yeah, looks like there is something about your size. Looks a bit dirty, though." he replies, reaching in and pulling out a slightly bulky dark-colored jacket with similar fur trim, and tosses it to me.

On first inspection, it indeed looks quite filthy, but overall, its an improvement, considering that I haven't had a jacket that fits since the prison. I quickly slip it on, zip it up, and then put my hat on. Turning to him, I glance up and down at myself, before looking up for his approval.

"Well?" I ask.

"You look hot no matter what you wear." he quips, tongue-in-cheek.

I feel my face and ears heat up at his remark, which he notices and proceeds to snicker about. Clearly, he enjoyed the opportunity to reverse my earlier embarrassment of him right back on me. Still, I don't mind the compliment every now and then. Its rare that either of us say stuff like that, so it is always amusing when one of us does. He proceeds to pick up his sword, which is sitting against a nearby wall, and strap it around his torso. The gun he had picked off those bandits back at the funeral home is hidden by his new jacket, but I know it is stuffed into the back of his jeans. Its where he always keeps it. We exit the room, meeting Dad and Michonne in the front room of the house.

"You guys find anything?" Tanner asks, standing up against the far wall, arms folded.

"Some cans of food, few bottles of water, but that's about it." Michonne replies.

"We better get moving." Dad speaks up. "The supplies we have now should stretch the rest of the journey."

We all can agree to that, nodding our heads, and preparing to head out. I was particularly enthusiastic. It may not be today. But _soon_ we would know if anyone else made it out of the Governor's sacking of the prison. In my heart, I hope so, even pray so. The thought that everyone was lost in that attack was just too much to bear. My expression must've become grave, because Tanner startles me when he comes up beside me, placing his hand on my shoulder and giving me his signature warm smile. A smile I'd really come to love over this past month. Its only then I realize we're the last one's left in the cabin.

"Come on, bud." he urges me, nothing but warmth and kindness in his voice. "Let's go find your friends."

I can't help but smile back.

"Carl! Tanner! Let's move!" Dad calls from outside.

And so, facing the doorway, we both set out again towards the tracks...

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Back on the tracks.

I was particularly tired this morning, so I seem to be lagging behind the others. Rick is a good yard or so ahead of me, with Carl and Michonne walking side by side about halfway between Rick and I. Overall, the walk is boring. We've been at it for an hour or so and have seen nothing but the occasional field rat. After a good five minutes of still lagging behind, I decide to get my ass in gear and jog to catch up to Carl and Michonne, who both smile when I approach, taking up a place between them. We come out into a much larger break in the trees, still on the tracks, and yet there is still no sign of civilization. If Terminus is close, it mustn't be very big. I am suddenly startled when I hear what sounds like a growl coming for directly beside me. Turning my head in confusion to see the culprit, I find Carl with his hand over his stomach.

"Somebody's hungry." I observe. "Didn't you eat breakfast."

"Yeah," he replies. "Still hungry though." He turns to Michonne. "Any more of those Big Cat bars?"

She unzips her bag and checks, before pulling out two candy bars, "Just one. There's only this kind left."

Carl reaches out for the one he asked for, only for Michonne to snatch her hand backwards in a playful manner.

"Hey!" he protests.

"We've got a problem, see?" she continues, devilish grin spreading across her face. "I was saving this one for _myself_ later."

"No way!" Carl exclaims. "That's not fair!"

Michonne chuckles and is silent for a moment. Then, as if an idea has gone off in her head, she begins teasing him again.

"Tell you what," she begins. "I'll bet you the candy bar of your choice that you can't stay balanced on the rail longer than I can."

"And if I win, I can pick the Big Cat?"

"That's the deal." Michonne nods.

Carl glances between myself and Michonne, though I'm just spectating, very amused by the situation unfolding before me.

"You're on." he finally says.

Both of them carefully step on to the rails on either side of the railroad ties, balancing themselves to the best of their individual abilities, and slowly begin to proceed down the rail.

"Wanna get in on this, Tanner?" Michonne invites before gritting her teeth in concentration, trying her best not to lose balance.

"No," I half-chuckle. "I think I'll just enjoy the show."

And enjoy it I did. To me, Carl seems to have the advantage. He's perfectly balanced, barely wobbling, and seems to be completely collected. Michonne, on the other hand, is doing what _I_ probably would be doing, were I competing with them. Her balance is off and she is visibly swaying back and forth, holding both her arms out like plane wings to steady herself. Nevertheless, they both seem to be as amused as I clearly am. Even more hilarious is the fact that Rick hasn't yet picked up on this little game they are playing. We make it down the line a few more feet and then Michonne starts trying to tip the game in her favor. With Carl completely focused on staying balanced, she turns to me and gestures in his direction. Of course, me being the oblivious person that I am, I don't understand what she's getting at. She does it again and this time mouths the words "get him".

Oh.

So that's the deal.

She wants me to mess Carl's balance up by distracting him or something, causing him to lose his balance.

It dawns on me that this is how I can get him back for sending Michonne in to get me up this morning. So, snickering in a mischievous manner, I nod at her and proceed to sneak up behind him. Swiftly, I deliver a short, precise poke to his shoulder. This startles him, causing him to stumble, and yet, against all odds, he manages to retain his balance. Though, at this point, he's now just as wobbly as Michonne.

"Hey!" he hisses.

"Payback." I reply with a devilish grin.

Whether or not he remembers what I mean by that, he doesn't let on, shutting up shortly thereafter to focus entirely on retaining his remaining balance. It is about this point that I hear Rick speak up way in front of us.

"We've got about a day's worth of food and water left." he explains.

He suddenly stops, as if realizing we're not where we should be, which is directly behind him. He turns and freezes up seeing Carl and Michonne balancing themselves on the rails.

"What are you doing?" he asks, seeming genuinely curious rather than upset.

"Winning a bet." Carl replies, keeping his focus on his feet.

Rick grins a little himself and then turns to me, "And they couldn't sucker you into this too?"

I smile and shake my head, "Balance isn't exactly a talent of mine."

"You know, if this keeps up, its going to slow us down." Rick directs at him, though he seems to be merely stating a fact. From what I can see, he's just as amused as I am.

"He's right." Michonne says. "We shouldn't be goofing around."

And then, in a last bid to startle Carl out of his balance, she turns, takes up a predatory posture and barks:

"CARL!"

Unfortunately, the sudden movement is her undoing, and she trips, falling off the rail and landing on her feet on the railroad ties. Realizing he's won, Carl grins triumphantly and steps down from the ties himself.

"I win." he declares proudly.

In fake reluctance, Michonne pulls out the two candy bars, purposely keeping the Big Cat, that Carl had originally wanted, close to herself. Nevertheless, Carl reaches out for it, causing her to pout outloud.

"Oh, come one!" she exclaims, much to Rick and I's amusement.

"You said the winner could chose." Carl reminds her cheekily.

"Oh, alright." she relents, giving him the candy he had chosen.

Carl victoriously unwraps the Big Cat, and then, to all of our collective surprise, he snaps the bar in two and hands on to Michonne. She looks at him warily, but Carl is quick to ease her fears.

"We always share." he states.

This causes her to smile and then happily take the half he's handing her. Seeing all this, Rick again turns to me.

"You mean candy was on the line and you didn't want any part of it?" Rick chastises me jokingly.

"Its okay," I assure him. "Besides, I can always get a little of Carl's half later."

At this, I snicker at Carl villainously, knowing we hadn't discussed those terms at all. He catches on to my challenge and promptly stuffs his half of the bar into his back pocket, tossing the remaining wrapper onto the tracks in the process. He then pats his butt, right where the candy is located in his pocket, in a goading fashion.

"You want it?" he challenges. "You're gonna have to come get it."

Well, I'm not one to turn down _that_ kind of challenge. He knows full well I'll reach into his back pocket and snatch that bar without a single bit of hesitation. So, anticipating this, he turns and takes off down the tracks, passing Rick in the process. I'm right on his heels, running at full speed for the first time in a good long while - perhaps since our race a few days after we first met. As can be expected, I hear Rick calling after us mixed with Michonne's laughter, and then I hear their footsteps on the gravel of the tracks and know they're chasing after us.

####

Sometime later, as the sun rises to its peak in the sky, I'm bent over desperately trying to catch my breath.

The pain in my thorax is a sharp reminder of the reasons I don't run. Or race.

Needless to say, Carl won, having evaded me until the last moment. He was now, for the second time today, standing triumphantly just off to the side; arms folded and nose up in mock pride. Rick and Michonne easily catch up to us, though, surprisingly, neither of them chastise us for taking off running like we did. After catching my breath, we again begin to move down the tracks and into the trees. Carl and Michonne continue to eat on their half of the candy bar they had split earlier while I walk alongside them. Spontaneously, I decide to reach up and grab Carl's free hand. Initially, he seems to take this as an attempt to snatch his candy bar, as he eyes me suspiciously, the bar itself still halfway in his mouth, but once he sees I make no attempt to grab it, he returns to eating it, gripping my hand tightly.

Michonne notices this and pretends to gag, "Ew," she jokes. "You two going to do that the whole time?"

Carl ignores her to finish his candy, but I smirk and return her jab.

"We could be doing a lot worse." I jab back at her. "So hush."

She chuckles and proceeds to speed up to catch up with Rick, giving Carl and I a few feet of space between us and them. Once I'm sure neither of them are looking, I pull on Carl's hand, bringing him closer to me, and plant an open mouth kiss right on his lips. He is startled at first, but, as I knew he would, opens up his mouth to give me access. Unbeknownst to him, however, I have an ulterior motive. There is a piece of unchewed candy, from his candy bar, in his mouth. My distracting him with a kiss, he hadn't been able to chew it up, so when I thrust my tongue inside, I quickly coil it around the Big Cat and pull it back into my mouth. Our lips smack as we come apart, but I don't think Rick or Michonne heard it.

"Hey!" he protests, punching me playfully in the arm.

"Told you I was going to get a piece." I say and chew at the same time.

"That was a dirty trick!" he argues.

"Like you wouldn't have done the same." I retort, snorting a laugh.

He folds his arms tightly across his chest, pretending to be angry, "I'm not going to let you kiss me if you do anything like that again."

I laugh for real this time, causing both Michonne and Rick to turn around to see what the commotion was about. When I just continue to laugh, they both shrug and shake their heads before returning their attention to the tracks ahead.

"I'm serious!" he insists when they've turned back around.

"Sure, Carl." I reply sarcastically. "Whatever you say."

Of course I know he's joking. If he wasn't, he wouldn't still be holding onto my hand, and probably would've ran up ahead to catch up with Michonne and his dad. In a way, I'm glad we have this kind of relationship. Able to joke around and pick on each other without having to tip-toe over the other's feelings. There were still some boundaries, as I never mention his mom or baby sister unless he does first, and he offers me the same respect in regards to my family, but those are a given. The woods around the track have again become dense and there seems to be no end in sight. Though I was sincerely hoping that we would reach Terminus today, I was starting to begin to doubt it, only because the sun would begin to descend in the sky in a little over an hour and we still need to stop to eat and refresh.

"We'll walk until sundown." Rick suddenly declares, echoing my thoughts. "If we make it there, so be it. If not, we'll camp out here for the night."

Great.

The thought of camping out _here_ makes me hope we reach Terminus even more. I was spoiled with a comfortable bed the night before, so sleeping on the ground again, even in my sleeping bag, isn't the most appealing of ideas. We continue to cover a good deal of ground and eventually the woods begin to thin again, though there is still no sign of the tree line. The silence that was permeating our travel was quickly filled by the sound of running water. A "babbling brook", as they're called, is running alongside the tracks, winding its way through the trees. If I have to guess, I'd say it is an offshoot of the river we left behind us at the cabin. It was good news, because that meant, if we _did_ have to stop here, there would be fresh water to refill our water bottles with; after we boil it, that is.

As I suspected, the sun begins to go down a little over an hour later and before long, dusk is upon us.

As planned, we veer off the tracks and into the woods, finding a clearing not far from where we have been traveling, and next to the brook that has been running alongside us. I then set to work assisting the others set up camp. Rick strings together several cans and lose junk to form a perimeter which will alert us if any walkers, or people, try to sneak up on us during the coming nightfall. In the meantime, Carl and I set out the sleeping bags while Michonne starts to build us a fire. By the time the sun fully slips under the horizon, camp is set up, and we are basking in the glow of the flames. I sit on a log next to Carl as we eat our rations for the evening. Michonne finds herself sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the fire, while Rick has found a tree stump to settle himself onto.

"We'll spend tomorrow here." Rick suddenly says after finishing his can of rations.

"Why?" Carl protests. "We're so close!"

"I know," Rick responds. "But I want to set up some traps around here. See if we can catch any game. I saw a few good game trails while we were moving through the woods. We can also fill up our water here at the creek and get another day of rest."

"We still don't know if Terminus is safe." Michonne interjects. "It could have _once_ been a safe-haven and is now completely overrun. Until we get there, we won't know. So it is a smart idea to be well stocked on supplies and well rested before we finish our journey there, just in case there is nothing left."

Carl bows his head. His anticipation of reaching Terminus has been palpable since the day we first found evidence of his friends being alive, so I imagine that the continued delays are starting to frustrate him more and more. I scoot over behind him and lay my hands on his back, slowly and carefully massaging his upper back muscles. They're tight, which tells me he's stressed, worried, or both. He loosens under my touch and I actually think I hear him sigh, whether in relief, or just to vent his frustration, I can't be sure. Instead, I continue to work his tight muscles, kneading the flesh beneath his shirt.

"They're out there, Carl." I reassure him, loud enough for the other two to hear me. "And we'll find them. Don't worry."

I look up to find Rick's gaze meeting mine. He doesn't say anything, merely nodding his approval. I can see Michonne smiling softly out of the corner of my eyes. My reassurance seems to work, as he loosens up further, and sinks back into my embrace. I can't exactly tell how long we sat, him in my arms, Michonne and Rick lost in their own thoughts, just staring at the flames of our small camp fire. Michonne is the first to yawn, which prompts Rick to make an announcement.

"Alright," he says. "Let's put out the fire and get some sleep. We're all tired."

We all return to our respective sleeping bags. Carl and I's are located nearby and are pushed together, that way we can cuddle together as we usually do when we have opportunities to sleep near one another. But tonight, sleep eludes me. Carl and I stay up for a good hour after Rick and Michonne had fallen asleep just staring at the stars. At some point, he takes hold of my wrist, but I only notice it after the fact, being too lost in my own thoughts to notice when he actually did so. About fifteen minutes later, he abruptly sits up in his bag.

"What is it?" I whisper to him.

"Wanna go on a late night swim?" he whispers back, eyes glittering in the moonlight.

I can't hide the look of sheer confusion that comes over me at that point, "What?"

"A swim." he repeats, gesturing to the brook on the other side of camp. "In the stream."

"Carl, that water is freezing." I protest, chuckling slightly. "Not to mention your dad will hear us and we'll get busted."

"No he won't." Carl argues. "We'll walk a ways down so they can't hear us. And the water will be fine! C'mon. You chicken or something?"

Its a childish goad, but one that works on me nevertheless.

I _hate_ being called a chicken, and Carl knows this.

So, five minutes later, he and I have sneaked over the walker traps Rick had laid out earlier in the evening, thanks to the flashlight he had given us the day before, and proceeded down the bank several yards before coming a place where we both agree we can swim without waking the adults with any noise we make. The moonlight is dancing across the water, giving it a very mystical air to it. Both of us strip down until we have nothing on and then dive in. The first thing I notice is how cold the water is. And I mean it is _cold_. Head breaking the surface, I have to resist the urge to yelp. Carl surfaces right after and is similarly reacting.

"See?!" I hiss at him.

"It'll be fine!" he snaps back.

And he's right. After a few minutes my body adjusts to the temperatures of the water and I am able to swim freely without shivering. The antics of two teenage boys can be hilarious sometimes. Carl is in a particularly playful mood today, I notice, and even now that seems to be the case. Because as soon as his own body adjusts to the temperature, he lunges at me, playfully pulling me underwater, just in time for me to suck in my breath. The brook isn't very deep. I can still touch bottom and have my entire head out of the water, so I didn't particularly fear drowning unless some other unforeseen accident occurs. But this pretty much sets the tone for the rest of our little "date" in the moonlit brook. We both take turns chasing the other, though Carl was by far a more nimble swimmer. Every now and then, one of us will splash the other as a distraction to slip away. In fact, multiple times after he would splash my, I would find myself getting ambushed from behind as I tried to wipe the water from my eyes. We work ourselves into quite a frenzy before _other_ things begin to happen.

As with everything else we've done today, he initiates it.

Springing up once again, he clasps his arms around my neck and falls into me. Being slightly bigger than Carl and more muscularly toned, I catch his fall easily, and for a moment I simply hold him there, wet and clinging to me. We don't stay that way for long, however, because Carl leans down in my grasp and plants his lips directly on top of mine and I get a taste of his hot mouth; only this time, I'm not after his candy. Somehow, despite the temperature of the water, Carl has managed to work up a very hard erection, which is pressing into my stomach muscles, only intensifying my arousal. It was rare for us to engage in these activities two nights in a row, but I can't deny that I want to. So, when his lips come off of mine and I can clearly make out the dilation of his pupils in the moonlight, I tell him that.

"I want you." I gasp, breath still a little short.

The grin that comes across his face is nothing short of lustful. Devious. Even mischievous.

Its all the response I need to deduce that he feels the same.

He surprises me by again taking the initiative, pushing me backwards, the mud along the creek bottom squishing between my toes, until cold air burns my skin and I realize that I'm pinned up against the rocky ledge leading back to the shore. I stare back at him breathlessly for a split second. How many times have I seen him bathed in the moon's eerie glow? And yet, everytime it happens, everytime the light illuminates his pale skin, or ignites his gorgeous sapphire eyes, I become short of breath. I take in the sight completely. The water dripping from his matted hair, yet clinging to his clearly defined shoulder blades and upper chest, which is partially out of the water. He really is the definition of perfection. In my eyes, anyways. I never thought I'd ever think that about a person. A year and a half ago, I would've gagged at such a thought. And even when Carl and I first began to fool around, I never I really spent the time to admire just how handsome he is. But there, for whatever reason, soaking wet and with the moon behind him, I can no longer hide those thoughts, those observations, from myself.

"What?" he snaps me from my daze, and I realize I have been staring for far longer than I initially estimated.

His face is serious, pupils still blown, hands still pinning me to the rocky ledge. I can't help but smile at him, pushing off the rocky ledge I free myself from his grip and lay one hand gently on his cheek. Our faces are close again. Close enough for me to feel his breath against my cold skin. Warm breath. How I so enjoy that feeling. I rub his cheek tenderly and he holds my gaze with his, still just as intense as always. I slip my other hand beneath the surface of the brook, sliding it down his side, before moving it in between his legs and grasping hold of his dick. I feel him shutter briefly, but he doesn't break my gaze to close his eyes, as he usually will when I do that. I don't need an invitation to start stroking him there, taking it slow, steady. Its always been a fantasy of mine to make love in water. Be that in the shower, a bath, pond, lake, creek. You name it. It was a fantasy, however, that I kept under wraps. How strange that things worked out like this, in the end.

"Nothing." I finally respond to him. "Just admiring how good you look."

He chuckles a little, his breath hitting me in spurts.

"That's twice in one day." he observes, referring to the amount of times I have complimented his appearance today.

"Can't help it." I smile back at him. "You're driving me crazy."

I squeeze his hardness a little harder to add emphasis. In response, he leans up and pecks me on the lips.

"Guess we'll have to fix that, huh?" he jests.

And at that point, my self-control dives off the proverbial cliff. My lips lunge for his and in that split instant, we engage in probably one of the sloppiest, wettest, most passionate kisses either of us have ever shared. The hand I have on his cheek moves to the back of his head, fingers gripping his wet hair tightly. My other hand keeps moving beneath the surface of the water, bringing him closer and closer to his climax. But then his lips are off of mine, now kissing a trail down my cheek, across my mandible, and then down to my neck. For whatever reason, he decides not to leave a hickey, which I wouldn't have protested at all, and simply continues to kiss and lick various parts of my neck. I don't even think he knows what he's doing, but frankly, if he doesn't care, neither do I, because as crazy as just looking at him was making me; this was driving me up the wall. Before long, my nervous system is going into a sensory overload, and I bring my other hand back up out of the water to join the first, gripping his hair to keep in place. But Carl is not about to be still.

"Turn around." his voice is rough, low, almost predatory.

Its sexy.

I've never actually _heard_ his arousal. Gasp, moan, shriek every now and then? Sure. But somehow, this was different. He was _ordering_ me to do something. Usually, I'd protest, or at least give him a hard time about barking an order at me, but there is something so erotic about him taking charge that I simply obey him and turn around, placing both my palms flat against the rocky embankment. He wastes no time pressing his hardness into the crevice off my butt. Internally, I know that the water we've been submerged in will act as a good enough lube. Still, the lack of warning he gives, as he pushes the head of his dick through my entrance is almost as erotic as his sudden demanding behavior. There is a sharp sting as he pushes past the initial resistance, but then he slides all the way in. Its the fastest he's ever bottomed out in me, though the number of times he's even _been_ in me have been minimal.

He holds himself in that position momentarily, gently pressing kisses to the back of my neck, and down the top part of my spine. I jump when I feel the warmth of his hand go around my own neglected dick, and then he's moving and I blast off into a realm of ecstasy I've never before been too. He's working me from the front and the behind, and it takes just about all the restraint I have left in my body not to moan loudly. The noise of the water alone is louder than it should be, but I barely notice it over the complete tidal wave my nervous system is experiencing. His movements are erratic and completely all over the place and I'm probably not helping by clenching my anal muscle around him; as that only seems to be driving him crazier and crazier. Somehow, though, his dick hits my prostate in the perfect spot and I nearly black out. In a groan that I simply couldn't contain, I come in his hand. Its the hardest orgasm I've ever experienced in my seventeen years of life. The sudden spasms of my muscles serve to stimulate him the rest of the way and he comes at the same time, still buried inside me to the hilt.

I hear him panting heavily behind me; feel his head rest on the center of my back as he tries to catch his breath. I stand there and let him rest for a moment and then, together, we stand up to our full height. He slips out of me and I turn around and immediately greet him with a hug. Its tight, but not tight enough to crush his tired frame. He doesn't hug me back, though I'm mostly sure its just because he's completely drained of energy. Instead, he shows his affection by resting his head on my shoulder.

Eventually, we climb out of the water and quickly pull our clothes back on to shield us from the cold. We walk back to camp hand-in-hand, and, to my great relief, Rick and Michonne are still out like a light. I carefully step over the walker trap Rick laid and Carl is not far behind me, doing the same. Once safely inside, we sneak over to our sleeping bags and crawl in, zipping them up around ourselves. The warmth of the bedding is much appreciated after the cold dip we took, as well as the cold night air. Carl suddenly scoots his sleeping bag closer to mine and then sweetly rests his head on my chest. I am a bit bummed that I couldn't share a sleeping bag with him, but this closeness will have to do until we reach Terminus.

_If_ we reach Terminus.

"Tanner?" Carl mumbles sleepily on my chest, breaking my train of thought.

"What is it, bud?" I reply to him.

"Love you."

I grin madly, "Love you too, Carl."

He goes quiet again and I return my gaze to the stars and wait for sleep to take me, but I suddenly hear him huff below me, and I lift my head slightly to get a view of him. He's still awake and clearly in thought, so I decide to prod and see what he's thinking about so hardly.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I ask.

He huffs again and then turns around to face me, head still resting on my chest.

"You think we'll ever be like Mom and Dad were?" he asks, causing my eyebrow to go up inquisitively. "Or Glenn and Maggie."

"Depends on what you mean by 'were', I suppose." I answer firmly.

It was an odd question for him to ask. To be frank, I thought we already _were_ like them, in the sense that we both love and care about the other, can bicker from time to time, but get along the majority of it. Not to mention the fooling around, which wasn't a necessity, but was definitely a nice on-the-side activity every now and then.

"You know," he says. His tone betrays embarrassment and nervousness. Whatever it is, he's afraid to bring it up.

"I don't." I say. "What do you mean?"

"You know..." he says again. "Like, married or something?"

'Or something.

We all use it when we say something that we are too nervous to say on its own.

Still, I have to admit that his question perplexes me. How long has this been on his mind? I'd be a liar to say it didn't cross mine that, somewhere, if we found some place safe and settled down, Carl and I could become a little family of our own. I haven't entertained the thought seriously, however, until now. Mainly because things in this world are so uncertain, and, as always, when I get my hopes up for something, they tend to collapse. In a rather gruesome and horrifying manner. For example, I always hoped and prayed I'd find a survivor from my original group in Atlanta, back before I met Carl, thinking that we could reunite and survive. And look how _that_ turned out. Both myself and my boyfriend were put in mortal danger, that's what! Even so, his sentiment is sweet. Its almost... comforting to know that he thinks highly enough of me that he would consider that.

"Tanner?" he snaps me out of my thoughts again.

"I'm sure," I begin, picking my words carefully. "That if we find a safe place to settle down, then yes, once you get old enough, I'd like that."

It never occurs to me how others might view that. Back before shit hit the fan, a guy marrying another guy was still a pretty contentious political topic. But would it matter now? The dead have risen up to eat the living. Surely people have other things to worry about other than two guys who love each other and want to be with each other.

_Guess its time to have another one-on-one chat with Michonne..., _I think.

Its humorous how much I've come to depend on her.

Carl brightens at my answer, his eyes still drooping sleepily, "Cool." he replies grinning. "But, to be honest, I'd want to even if we didn't find a safe place."

I snort at that remark. Clearly he's thought about this quite a bit.

"You're right." I reply, freeing my arm from my sleeping bag to rest it on the back of his head affectionately. "Then when you and I are a little older, we can talk about it again."

He seems to accept this answer and finally closes his eyes to go to sleep.

It doesn't take him long before he's snoring lightly on my chest. My thoughts, however, are in a frenzy. Mostly, they're centered around our conversation. Even my heart seems to be racing. Our relationship has come along way in the past month. From friends, to boyfriends, to boyfriends who fool around, and now he's curious about being significant others. Carl had once mentioned how quickly Glenn and Maggie took to one another, so I've already disregarded the possibility that perhaps his feelings towards me are rushed. They're entirely justified. We've fought alongside each other, saved one another's asses numerous times, and taken care of one another when one of us reaches our breaking point. That's more in one month than most couples experience in years of dating. Its then that a flicker, a flame, a spark lights in my chest. That maybe I already felt the same towards him and just never noticed it. Either way, I want to wait to discuss this with him until we're both older. Whether I like it or not, we _are_ still kids, albeit barely, so that line of thinking is probably best saved for another day.

So, shoving my thoughts aside, I tousle Carl's hair one last time, soft enough not to wake him, and then close my own eyes.

It takes awhile, but sleep finally comes, and it hits me hard...

* * *

**A/N: Planned to have this out a few hours ago, but homework distracted me! Sucks that Spring Break is over, but I'm still writing! Sunday's TWD episode was cool. We finally got to see Terminus and at least one reunion, so that was nice. Carl and Michonne's bet was just too damn adorable not to include, so I made it a priority to place it in this chapter. Hope this chapter was enjoyable! Review and leave your comments! Always look forward to reading you guy's thoughts, opinions, and anything else you have to offer! **

**As I'm pretty tired upon posting this, I'll answer reviews for the previous chapter, and this one, if there are any new ones, on the next chapter.**

**See you guys with the next one!**

**Later.**


	25. The Calm Before the Storm

"Tanner..."

"Tanner...!"

"TANNER!"

I snap from my daze and snap my head around to see who is calling my name.

_Oh yeah... It's just Michonne._

"Sorry," I reply to her, shaking my head free of the fog that has been clouding it all morning. "Just... thinking about something."

The look she gives me is nothing short of concerned. Perhaps I should back up and explain how we got to be here. After waking up this morning, Rick had decided to set out and teach Carl how to trap game. Michonne volunteered to take me on a supply run in the meantime, to see if we could find anything useful. Our collective plan was to remain at our camp for the rest of today and then finish our journey to Terminus tomorrow. Somewhere along the way through the woods, my thoughts became clouded with what Carl and I had talked about the night before. I guess I never noticed how dazed I had become, because it too Michonne practically shouting for me to snap me out of the thick clout of thoughts.

"Are you okay?" she is saying.

"Fine." I reply.

We push through another segment of bushes as we continue further into the woods. I have to admit, I have become very accustom to Carl being at my side in the past week. We've gone on separate runs before, but it has been awhile, and something just doesn't feel... I don't know. It just doesn't feel right without him around to keep me company with his witty remarks, jokes, or hardheadedness. In a way, it bothers me that I'm bothered by that feeling. Several times I've considered turning around heading back to camp to find him, but so far I've done good to resist that feeling. Michonne seems to pick up on the fact that I've become unusually quiet again and, ever the persistent person that she is, continues to press me for more.

"You don't seem fine." she observes bluntly.

I bite my lower lip in frustration.

Truth be told, I want to talk to her about it. She always understands me when I bear my soul to her. In fact, outside of Carl, I was beginning to consider her one of my best friends. That, in and of itself, was a strange feeling. She was nearly twice my age and yet I consider her closer than even some of the friends I had prior to the end of the world. Still, I suppose, now more than ever, age is just a number. So, I sigh aloud, turn on the ball of my foot and face her. Her concerned expression has worsened and she is now observing me carefully, quietly, hands on both hips, waiting for an explanation she knows is coming. I always tell her eventually.

"I just have a lot on my mind." I reply truthfully without divulging too much.

"Want to talk about it?" she offers without hesitation.

I glance off, averting her gaze.

_Yes._ I think to myself. _I just don't know how to put it into words._

"Are you and Carl alright?"

Its amazing how perceptive she is. Of course, I suppose it is just common sense that one of the only things that can bother me to this degree these days is the person I have the greatest attachment to. Nevertheless, I chuckle slightly at the way she says it. If she had _any_ idea what we were doing just a little while ago, under the cover of the moonlight, she wouldn't even bother asking that question. But I'm _not_ about to get on that topic with her. Or anyone for that matter.

"Yes, we're fine." I return my gaze to her.

"Then what is it?"

I'm genuinely touched by her concern. In a way, she almost appears motherly. Her posture, the worry that is clear in her brown eyes, and everything in her facial expression reminds me of my mother. She used to do the exact same thing whenever I would become distant or upset. There are other ways Michonne reminds me of my mom. I was particularly close to my mom, told her everything, in stark contrast to my father, whom I did everything I could to avoid whenever I could. These memories soften my disposition and so I open my mouth and spill what's on my mind.

"Its related." I explain. "Carl and I... talked about something last night. Been on my mind every since."

She suddenly grimaces, "Am I going to need to sit down for this one?" she asks almost sarcastically.

This makes me genuinely laugh.

"No, no." I reassure her. "Nothing like _that_."

She eyes me suspiciously, "Go on, then." she replies.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. In the meantime, she leans up against a skinny tree behind her, taking up her signature folded-arm posture as she waits for my answer.

"He asked me if he and I were going to end up like his parents and Glenn and Maggie." I say.

She shoots me a perplexed look, my cue to go further in depth.

"Marriage."

I fully expect Michonne to burst into hysterical laughter, because, were I in her shoes, that's exactly what I would have done when presented with this situation. Instead, her expression changes from concern to that of understanding. Not even the slightest joking grin. It is another trait of hers that I like. She knows when to lighten the mood with joking and also when the situation calls for a more serious, tempered response. At first she says nothing. In fact, she begins to swivel her head around, as if searching for something among the underbrush. Eventually, she nods in the direction of a fallen tree trunk, indicating for me to take a seat next to her over there. So I follow her over and plop down beside her. She thinks for a moment, but then meets my gaze, and huffs.

"And," she begins. "What did you say when he asked you that?"

"I told him we should talk about it when we, both of us, are older." I reply truthfully.

She nods, "Mature of you." she comments. "Most kids your age rush into things like that without thinking or talking it out. How do you feel about it though? Truthfully."

As if I'd ever lie to her in the first place.

"I like the idea." I reply, smiling unconsciously at the thought.

She finally allows herself to snicker a bit.

"What?!" I exclaim, wondering why she found what I said to be so funny.

"Nothing, its just," she continues. "You two remind me of Glenn and Maggie back at the prison. Always glued to each other's side, talking about their future, and all these plans they had. In particular though, they always snuck off when they thought nobody was aware of it, to do God knows what."

My face is suddenly on fire, and it quickly spreads to my ears. Had she been awake last night?! Not that I think she would've heard us; we had gone a considerable distance downstream. But she would've been aware of us leaving and coming back to camp. Michonne notices my embarrassed expression, which only widens her grin further. I quickly attempt to change the subject.

"That's the other thing." I stutter. "Glenn and Maggie... they got separated. And we don't even know if they found each other, or if either of them are alive. I don't know how I'd be able to handle that, if something similar were to happen to us. And I wouldn't want to put Carl through it, either."

She sighs again, expression becoming serious, "Sometimes you have to take risks. Nothing is certain in this world anymore, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't do something just because something _might _happen. Especially when it involves someone you love."

"You know an awful lot about this stuff." I interject, raising an eyebrow at her.

She smiles, this time softly, "I was in love... once."

Well, I certainly didn't know that.

Michonne keeps her past under tight wraps. She has never really spoken to me much about it, though I suspect Carl may know a bit more than I do, but chooses to keep it tight lipped for her sake. In fact, the only real detail about her past that I know of is her involvement with the prison and her friendship with Andrea. I have to admit, I'm curious, but I know Michonne won't delve up the details of her past so easily. Nevertheless, I decide to give it a try, and ask her what is on my mind.

"Did you go through any of this?" I ask her.

She purses her lips, as if deciding if she really wants to go there with me at this point.

"Some of it." Her answer is vague, but that is to be expected. "Enough to know how you feel."

She is visibly uncomfortable talking about it, so I decide not to press her further. She's explained herself well enough, anyways, so there was no need to continue digging for answers. When she is ready to talk to me about it - _if_ she is ready to tell me about it - she will. And not before then. At the very least, I was happy _she_ was the one I was having this conversation with and not Rick. The awkwardness of that situation would prevent me from pushing for any meaningful answer.

"Listen," she continues. "You really care about Carl. Everyone can see that, including him. Follow this," she pats her fist against the portion of her chest where her heart is. "And don't let this world change that."

I nod slowly, "Thanks."

She lays one of her hands on my shoulder, right above the scar I received from Nat's sword, causing it to twinge slightly, but nothing too painful.

"Try not to let it bother you too much." she pats me twice and then stands up. "Come on, let's get moving."

I pick my weapon up, strapping it across my back where I usually keep it, and lift myself up off the log. Carl and I are definitely going to need to talk about this, one on one, at some point, before I feel completely better. Nevertheless, Michonne has managed to reassure me. And so, I start off into the woods after her...

####

An hour passes.

Michonne and I find ourselves sitting outside an old convenient store, just on the outside of the woods, a couple miles from camp. We've hit the proverbial jackpot; food, water, and more importantly... candy. Lots of it. I fill an entire pocket in my backpack to take back to Carl later, knowing he'll want some. As for now, the two of us are tearing into some Snickers bars we managed to grab. I'm not sure what is up with Michonne and candy, but I'm glad that she likes it so much. Rick never has shown much concern for the simple things in this new world, but Michonne never passes up an opportunity to. The sun is just now peaking to its full afternoon height in the sky, raining Georgia heat down upon us.

"Terminus tomorrow." I say, breaking the silence at last, as I stuff the last piece of my chocolate bar into my mouth. "How do you feel about it?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full." she scolds me in jest, grinning in the process.

I make quick work of the candy in my mouth, swallowing it, before trying again, "Well?"

She shakes her head at me and then becomes serious, "I'm hopeful."

"Yeah?" I say, tossing the wrapper aside. "Me too. Haven't been in a large group for over a year now. Its going to be... different..."

"You'll get used to it," she assures me. "I did."

"You were alone before the prison?" I ask, genuinely shocked by this.

She nods, "Just me and the two walkers I kept chained up. Even when I met Andrea, it was just the two of us. Carl took me in."

I knew that much, at least. Carl had saved her from walkers after seeing her outside the fences of the prison. It was also Carl who declared that she belonged with his group at the prison. Carl had told me all of this a month ago, not long after the two of us had first met back in that neighborhood. It was yet another thing Michonne and I had in common. Carl had taken me in as well, though begrudgingly, at first. Sometimes, I wonder if Rick ever gives him credit for that. Were it not for him, it would just be the two of them out here alone. No Michonne, no me. Just them. I can only imagine how lonely that would've been for them, especially given Carl's sometimes playful and mischievous behavior quirks.

"Is it wrong of me to hope we can stay there?" I return to the original subject.

"No." she replies. "I think we're all tired of moving."

Movement catches my attention, out of the corner of my eye, and I jolt around to see several walkers making their way down the street. Michonne spots them at the same time and we both, simultaneously, leap to our feet, weapons in hand. One, two, three, four, five... six. Six in all. They do not seem to have noticed us just yet. Michonne pats me on the shoulder and motions towards a patch of trees behind the convenience store and we silently, bags in tow, sneak into the coverage of the trees. It is a close call, but we manage to make a circle around them and get back onto the game trail leading back to our camp without alerting the walkers.

"Phew," I sigh when we're clear. "I thought that was the herd coming back, for a moment."

"Nah," she denies. "We're outside the red zones at this point. There shouldn't be any big herd build ups."

Soon, I can hear the familiar sounds of the brook in the distance. By following that, we should be able to make it back to camp in no time flat.

"Do you think I should talk to Rick about what we spoke about earlier?" I ask her out of nowhere.

Unfortunately for me, I just couldn't let this issue go today.

"Later," is her response. "He's only just gotten used to the idea of you two being in any sort of romantic relationship. Throw that in his face and it may just be too much for him to handle."

She has a point. Not that I am looking forward to telling him either way. Hopefully Carl will be the one to do that. It is _his_ dad after all. Regardless, I let the topic drop once again, and we continue to follow the brook back towards camp. I can't wait to be there. To be with Carl again. I have severely missed him all morning, so I intend to stick close to him for the rest of the day, barring Rick having any extra plans for his son later this evening. The walk drags on, until, eventually, I begin to smell the strong odor of the smoke from our campfire. And once I can see the flicker of the flames, I pick up my pace.

_I'm almost there..._

####

I arrive at camp moments later and it seems that our timing couldn't have been more perfect. Just as we break through the shrubs surrounding our camp, Rick and Carl break through the trees on the opposite side, carrying extra firewood for the campfire they've started. Carl looks dirty and muddy in an entirely handsome way. He has dirt on his cheeks, covering up some of his patches of freckles. His hair is matted by sweat and excess dirt, hat sitting awkwardly on top of it. His hands are in a similar condition. In fact, it almost looks like he's been working in a saw mill all day. Rick greets us by waving, but Carl runs over, after dropping his wood in the fire, and I greet him with a hug. A tight, longing, "I've-missed-you" type of hug. He even smells like he's been in a saw mill all day, mixed with the aroma of the smoke from the fire, and the dirt clinging to his clothes. He was definitely in need of a bath. I'd have to see to that later.

"Any luck?" he asks me, before looking over to Michonne to imply the same question.

"We found plenty." Michonne replies with a smile, dropping her bag to the ground.

"Brought you something back." I declare, dropping my own bag.

Carl looks at me expectantly, so I kneel down and open the pouch on the side of my backpack, revealing the pocket full of candy I had brought back to him. Immediately his eyes bulge and he snatches a Big Cat bar, go figure, out of the pocket and begins to unwrap it. I half expect Rick to protest, given that we are probably about to make dinner, but he instead just chuckles and shakes his head. Carl leans up, standing on his toes, and presses a grateful kiss to my cheek, which, being in front of everyone, causes my face to turn all different shades of red.

"Carl," Rick speaks up as he begins to go through Michonne and I's plunder. "You should probably go wash up before we eat."

Carl nods and starts trotting off in the direction of the stream, candy still in his hand. I want to follow him, but with Rick right there, I didn't know if that was the best idea.

"You too, Tanner." Its Michonne to the rescue.

I glance once at Rick, to gauge his reaction, but he's far too focused on the task at hand. I mouth a "thank you" to Michonne, who merely grins at me, before I take off in the direction Carl had disappeared in, snatching a change of clothes for us both before I completely leave the camp. I catch up to him easily and hand him his change of clothes. I suppose he anticipated that I would follow after him, as he doesn't seem too surprised when I come up alongside him. The two of us travel down the brook several yards to the small clearing where we had our late night skinny dipping session the night prior, make short work of our filthy clothing, and dive into the water one after the other. The water is much warmer today, perhaps having been heated by the afternoon sun. It is definitely a nice change from the frigid temperatures of last night.

"How did trap setting go?" I ask Carl as we finally settle in.

"It was cool." he replies, briefly sinking under the water afterwards to soak his hair. "Dad hasn't taught me anything like that since... well... before everything. How about the run?"

I snort, recalling Michonne and I's earlier conversations, "As to be expected with anything involving Michonne, it was interesting."

Carl began to scrub the dirt and grime from the day off of his body while I sit back and soak in the water. There is something about water that I absolutely love. The way it sounds when its running, especially when its raining, can soothe me on even the worst of nights. When I'm in water I feel as though I can think more clearly. Perhaps its just me being weird, but that's how I always have seen it. Watching Carl bathe himself is an added bonus, though, I will admit that I have rather enjoyed seeing him all dirty and sweaty from a hard day's work. It made him look older; more mature.

"You not going to wash?" he asks when he catches me staring.

I sigh and flash him a grin, "I suppose."

I swim out to where he is and quickly swim under the surface to get my hair wet again. When I surface, he tosses me the bar of soap he has been using, and I join him in scrubbing off the filth of the day.

"Tanner?"

I look up at him. He's not looking at me, instead focusing on a splotch of dirt on his shoulder, though I notice his eyes occasionally darting to see what I am doing. Finally, he stops scrubbing, and focuses those eyes of his - those perfect pools of azure - directly on mine.

"Yes?" I reply to him when he still says nothing.

"I missed you today."

My heart melts. Seems I wasn't the only one feeling a little bit of separation anxiety after we had gone our separate ways earlier this morning. I swiftly close the gap between us, swimming up behind him, and slip my arms around his bare waist, pulling him back into my embrace. The water droplets clinging to his exposed skin, shaken by the sudden movement, drip onto mine and then back into the water from which they came. I nuzzle his still-somewhat-soapy hair affectionately and take in the sweet scent of his freshly washed hair. Its a heavenly aroma, almost intoxicating in its potency. I soak up the moment to just hold him tightly to me. Truth be told, if I could have things my way, we would stay like this and I would never let go. I feel the flame in my heart leap and jump at the simple touch of his skin against mine.

"I missed you too, bud." I whisper to him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"We'll be there tomorrow." he declares, the tone in his voice perking up. "If they made it... we'll know tomorrow."

"Yeah," I smile and squeeze him tightly. "Its been quite an adventure, huh?"

"If you could even call it that." he chuckles. "I can't wait for you to meet them."

I, on the other hand, am nervous as fuck about meeting any former group members of Carl's. I can't deny my curiosity, however, especially given the number of stories I have heard about them all. It really is surreal. For the past month we've struggled, suffered, and persevered to reach this point. Terminus. At some points, it really felt like we would never make it here. As the sun begins to set, Carl and I hop out of the stream and dry off, changing into our fresh new clothes. We carry our dirty clothes back to camp and find Rick and Michonne already preparing to hand out the rations for tonight. It appears to be some sort of canned noodles, likely something Michonne grabbed from the convenient store on our run earlier. With any luck, the traps Rick and Carl set out will have something other than walkers in them tomorrow, and we can have a real meal before setting off for Terminus. Rick is eager to talk about that, as I soon find out. No sooner have Carl and I taken our seats and begun to eat, he begins to speak.

"Tomorrow," he says. "We go to the end of the line. Be prepared for anything. As Michonne mentioned yesterday, we don't know what is there. Could be what we're looking for, could be overrun. Just be ready, either way."

"What are we going to do," Carl speaks up. "If we find the others?"

Rick's expression hardens.

Part of me believes he's still skeptical that any of them are alive, whether they made it out of the prison or not, but just doesn't say so outright for Carl's sake. After all, the hope that his friends are still out there has kept Carl moving through some pretty rough patches in the last month. When I found him, back in that neighborhood, he was a big ball of anger and frustration at the thought of having lost them. Discovering Daryl's arrows and Maggie's sign had worked wonders in releasing some of that pent up frustration. I really hate to entertain the thought of them not being there. Carl would, no doubt, be devastated again and I want to prevent that more than anything.

"Dad?" Carl tries to grab Rick's attention.

"We'll cross that bridge when we reach it." Rick replies calmly.

Carl doesn't push the subject and lets it drop.

Carl and I finish our rations first and he's quick to retrieve the remnants of the candy bar he'd gotten earlier and finish it off along with dinner. The sun is now low in the sky, but Carl and I go ahead and make our way to our sleeping bags, laying on top of them, rather than in them, for the current time. He gets comfortable, folding both of his hands behind his head, knees up facing the sky. After a moment's consideration, I scoot over and rest the back of my head on his chest, staring upwards at the coming twilight with him, while folding my hands across my chest. A peaceful silence billows over us, leaving me with nothing but the sound of his beating heart beneath me to fill my ears. Its the first time I've really listened to his heartbeat. Its an almost musical sound; music to my ears at least. It meant he was alive. He was okay. And even though I could deduce both those things just by looking at him, there is an odd sense of comfort that comes along with hearing the beat itself.

A powerful gust of wind tears through the camp, blowing both Carl and I's freshly dried hair along with it.

There is a chill to it.

And for some reason, with that chill, comes an ominous feeling of dread.

Its too peaceful.

Everytime I start to settle down and think things will work themselves out, something bad happens, and that is just the vibe I am getting at this precise moment. I roll over onto my side, so that my left ear is pressed into Carl's chest, and look at him. He's lost in his thoughts, probably thinking about tomorrow, staring blankly at the sky. He doesn't even notice me watching him. And as I watch him, the sense of dread grows. Whispers inside my head that tell me that if Terminus turns out to be a bad place, rather than a good one, that something could happen to Carl. Why wouldn't it? After all, nearly a month ago, he had almost been raped by several bandits on the highway. Then there was the incident with Nat. And then the flu. And even when he was held by that lunatic in the basement of the funeral home. Bad things always happen when we start getting settled. I unconsciously reach up and grab his hand, almost frightfully. It startles him and he looks down at me in dazed confusion.

"You alright?" he murmurs in his low, baritone voice.

"Yeah," I lie, slight quiver to my voice as I trying to shove aside the anxiety. "I'm fine."

And even as I close my eyes and cuddle myself into him for comfort, which he unknowingly aids by draping his arm around me, I can feel the ominous premonition creeping through my veins like cold ice. And then, Rick's words echo through my skull:

"_Just be ready._"

I think that by at least having the suspicion that something could go wrong, I'd be ready in case it did.

How wrong I was.

What came next, there was no preparing for...

* * *

**A/N: A little ominous foreshadowing for the next chapter. I was debating on whether to write this chapter, or just wait until Sunday to write the chapter on the season finale, but I decided I needed one more "nice" chapter before shit officially hits the fan. Yes, the next chapter will be Terminus, at long last. That being said, I'm going to wait to post it until after Sunday's episode. Its a three day wait, I realize, and I hate to make you all wait that long, but I want to make sure I get every last detail of the season finale into the chapter. Plus you guys have waiting long enough for Terminus. That brings me to another announcement I have: I will be breaking off from the TV plot after the next chapter, so not 26 which will be about Terminus, but 27. Reason being is obvious. Season 5 doesn't begin until October and I have my own direction that I want to take with this story. If you guys have any suggestions or comments on this, please, please, please, leave it in your review or PM me. Like I said, I have a direction and I know how the story ends, but I like getting input from everyone. A couple chapters have already had input some of my reviewers have given me in PMs put into them, so your suggestions do get heard and considered! So, don't be afraid to speak up!**

**Now, as promised, the reviews I wanted to answer:**

**HunterArk: Yeah, I felt I skimped out on the smut in "The Cabin", as it was sort of a short scene, so I included another xD Plus, given what's about to happen, in-story, there won't be time for smut again for awhile, so I wanted everyone to have their fix. Glad you enjoyed! Thanks for the comment :)**

**HeadedCoffee: Thanks :) When I first saw this review, I was confused, so I looked up the new trailers... and my heart leaped into my throat. I KNEW they were going to bring in that scene from the comics at somepoint. Looks like it will be in the next episode. But, I anticipated this, and luckily, the marauders I introduced in both Chapters 8 and 22 were OC's. I have a plan to tie them back to Joe's group so that it makes sense for them to appear in the next chapter, so don't you worry! Glad to see you have stuck with me this long. This story is a little over a month old and its nice to see people still have a genuine interest in its going-ons. Hope you continue to enjoy and stick around! Thanks for your comments and review :)**

**50 reviews guys and nearly 7,000 views. Words can't express how thankful I am to you all for your continued readership and dedication! Keep 'em coming and I'll see you guys on Sunday!**

**Later.**


	26. Terminus

**A/N: After seeing Sunday's episode, this is now official, though I've been telling you all this for awhile. With this chapter, I'm taking the story my own direction. This will be the last one that follows the events of the TV series (though the characters and the plot still remained based heavily upon the TV series). That being said, "Terminus" will be the start of Part 2 of the story. Yes, this story is a long one, but I've had the end in sight ever since I wrote Chapter 1, so it was always meant to be long. I hope I take this story in a direction that is believable and pleasing to all my readers. Thank you all for sticking with this story and I hope you continue to enjoy.**

**Now, let's begin.**

* * *

Morning.

After my little anxiety attack last night, I can't exactly say that I'm happy about being awake. Michonne and Rick are already awake and, judging by the smell, cooking what is to be our breakfast. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the sunlight, but then I rise up, shaking Carl lightly to wake him from his sleep and then I begin to make my way over to the camp fire. Michonne greets me with a smile, Rick a subtle wave, and I take a seat next to Michonne. None of us say a word. All of us look exhausted. Carl joins us shortly thereafter, sitting next to me, and Rick stands, hands on his hips, to admire his handy work.

"How hungry are you? Scale of one to ten?" he directs at Carl, prodding one of the cans in the flames with a stick.

"Fifteen." Carl snorts sleepily.

"Twenty-eight." Michonne quips, bringing a grin to Rick's lips.

All three of them look at me now and I can't help but join in.

"A hundred, now gimme my food." I answer in a snarky manner.

"You're always hungry." Carl says, rolling his eyes.

"I was just as bad before The Turn." I reply, rubbing my hands together for warmth in the cold morning air. "My mother use to have to fight me away from the fridge."

_That_ particular bit of information causes all three of them to chuckle to themselves and Rick sets about passing around the cans of rations. More noodles from the looks of it. Not that I care. I wasn't _just_ playing along with them when I said I was hungry. My stomach was making hungry walker noises and that meant it needed food now. I hungrily tear into my food while Carl blows out the small flame still lit in our fire pit. How he's not tearing into his own food, I'll never understand. He's not a typical teenage boy when it comes to food, that's for sure. Most of us eat like ravenous pigs, but Carl is a fairly fickle eater for the most part. The only time I've ever known him to have eaten just an enormous amount is when I learned that _he_ was the one responsible for eating that entire carton of chocolate pudding I had found the day we met. And that was a little over a month ago now.

"That'll have to do for now." Rick says. "I'm going to go check the snares."

"Can I go with you?" Carl asks, looking up at his father.

"Well how else are you going to learn?" Rick replies.

At first, Michonne and I stay put, continuing on with our breakfast. But Rick steps in front of us, looking down upon us.

"Hey," he says, drawing our attention. "You guys too."

And with that, after grabbing our weapons, we're off into the woods. Even though I'm technically being dragged along, I still eat my rations while we walk. No way I'm giving up a meal that easily . With any luck, however, I'll learn a thing or two myself from watching Rick and Carl work. That may have been Rick's point in the first place.

"I was thinking," Rick says as we walk through the woods. "That we'll stay another day or two."

"To finish healing up?" Michonne asks casually.

"I'm almost there." Rick replies.

I can see the conflict in Carl's eyes, however. It seems that everytime we're about to Terminus, its always "a day or two more". I, on the other hand, welcome it. I'm in no rush. Especially after the anxiety attack I experienced last night. And Michonne made a valid point. The funeral home was tough on all of us. Getting separated, running from the herd, Carl getting sick. Shit just continues hitting the fan and we have yet to get our full strength completely back. We're always moving. Always running.

"But you said-" Carl protests.

"I know what I said." Rick cuts him off. "But it'll do us no good rush."

"We're close, though." Carl argues.

"To Terminus? We are." Rick replies. "But it still wouldn't hurt."

We walk a little further, but it seems Carl has more to say.

"When we get there," he begins. "Do we tell 'em?"

"Tell them what?" Michonne chimes in.

"Everything that happened to us." he continues. "All the stuff we've done. We gonna tell them the truth?"

"We'll tell them who we are." Rick replies simply.

"But, how do you say that? ...Who are we?"

Rick stops walking and turns to his son. Internally, I wonder to myself just how long this has all been on Carl's mind. He hasn't spoken to me at all about it. All that seems to have been on his mind lately is finding his friends. Michonne looks back at me quizzically, as if to see if I know what he's talking about. All I can offer is a shrug. Rick begins to open his mouth to answer, but the sudden cracking of a branch startles all three of us, followed by the snarl of a hungry walker. Its only one of them, but all four of us draw our weapons anyways. Michonne takes the lead and reaches it first, decapitating it without even flinching. Its amazing, to me at least, how unfazed we were becoming by the sight of walkers. Back when the Turn first began, I remember being terrified at just the smell of them. Hell, before the Atlanta camp fell I would run at the sight of a walker. Even after the sight of them unnerved me. But now? Seeing them is expected and unless they come in a herd, I don't even blink an eye at the sight of one. We soon come out into a clearing where Rick and Carl set their traps the day before.

"There you go!" Rick exclaims, picking up his pace to reach the trap.

Sure enough, there, caught in a small noose, is a rabbit.

"Its just a small one." Rick notes, freeing the dead animal and shoving it into his knapsack. "But, it'll do." Looking up to make sure all three of us are watching him, Rick launches into his explanation of the trap. "So, this is a simple slip knot. You tie it to both ends of the branch. Now you see how the ground here is sort of like a funnel shape?"

I glance at where he's gesturing. He's right. The leaves and the very ground itself have a funnel-like impression in them. But it doesn't just stop with the leaves. It continues on, past where we are, and into the trees. I know from my long time alone on the road, prior to meeting Carl, that its a game trail. Back in those days, I used to follow them whenever I was forced to travel in the woods. It made hunting easier and kept me from getting lost more than once.

"Its a trail?" Carl asks, stating the obvious.

"That's right." Rick replies. "That's where you want to set the noose. You cover it with leaves and sticks so that any animal coming this way has to run right through it. Right here."

Rick demonstrates with his hand how the trap works.

I marvel at its simplicity, yet, effectiveness. In fact, I'm almost envious that I hadn't learned that before. It certainly would have prevented me from going without eating more than once in the past.

"Wish I had know that before." I mumble to myself, airing my thoughts aloud.

"Didn't you ever hunt for food?" Carl asks me, glancing my way.

"On occasions, yes." I reply. "But there are only so many animals that will allow you to get close enough to them with a sword."

Michonne chuckles at this, "The man speaks the truth." she replies.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"

The screams cut our conversation completely off, causing our heads to snap up in the direction they're coming from. Without warning, Carl draws his gun and bolts into the woods.

"Carl!" Rick barks. "Carl stop!"

But there is no stopping Carl Grimes. Ducking under a branch, he charges off in the direction of the screams.

"_Shit_!" I spit, unsheathing my sword, and tearing off after him.

"Tanner!" Its Michonne this time.

I'm not stopping either. Wherever Carl goes, I go. Especially when there is a chance of danger. And so, with no other option left, the two adults haul after us. I tear through the underbrush, keeping my eyes locked on Carl, who is only a few feet in front of me. We round a corner and come to a much larger clearing. There is a mid-sized pack of walkers filling it, surrounding a bespectacled man wielding a stick. Its obvious the man can't see us standing just inside the treeline, but he continues to scream regardless. Honestly, screaming is a dumb move on his part. It only serves to continue drawing the walkers towards him. To my surprise, Carl raises his gun to take aim, but even I know there is no chance that he'll mow down those walkers. He doesn't have nearly the ammunition required to take them all down and with more walkers pouring out of the trees, even with Rick and Michonne with us, we'll be overrun. I reach to stop him, but Rick, arriving at just that moment, beats me to the punch, wrapping his arms around his son and pulling him back, preventing him from firing in the process.

"We can't help him!" Rick declares.

And so we don't.

I watch in disgust as the walkers tear the man's face off with just their teeth. Then they converge and I lose sight of him. Even so, I know what's happening. They're eating him alive. I've seen it before. The _real_ problem is the walkers that have been left out of the feeding frenzy. Two of them notice us and begin to lurch forward towards our hiding spot.

"Rick..." I hiss under my breath.

"We've gotta go!" Michonne urges at the same time.

With that, the four of us depart the scene, running off back into the woods. We manage to run in the right direction. Perfectly, in fact, because we quickly come out of the trees again, only this time, its on the railroad tracks. From the snarls I hear building behind us, I can tell the walkers aren't too far behind. And, as it turns out, they aren't too far in front either. An even smaller cluster of them are bent over the tracks, working on a corpse of their own. Rick runs ahead of us and I am close behind him, Michonne and Carl at my side. Rick gets the kill on the first walker, I get the second, Michonne the third, and Carl the fourth. Our teamwork is definitely becoming more fluid. Moreover, I feel safer when we fight as one. Seems things always go better that way.

"Let's go." Rick orders, even over the hisses of the walkers behind us.

With no questioning or further comments from any of us, all four of us run off after him, taking ourselves off the tracks and heading directly for the roadside.

Looks like we won't be camping here for a few days after all...

####

Its night.

Running from those walkers took most of our day from us. I have to hand it to them. The dead may be slow and clumsy, but they were damn persistent. We would have been further by now were it not for them. Luckily for us, Carl had located an old, torn apart blue pickup on the road we'd been traveling on, and so that is where we are currently making camp. Its not the most comfortable place to sleep, but, for the moment at least, its safe from walkers. Carl and I are in the back seat. Its far too small for the both of us to sleep next to each other as we were becoming more accustomed to. Instead, I let him spread out across the seat, using my lap as a pillow, while I simply lean back and sleep that way.

Only I'm not asleep.

My mind is too preoccupied with other things.

Outside, I can hear Rick and Michonne talk to one another, though what they're talking about is to muffled for me to make out. My stomach growls rather loudly. At dinner, I had allowed Carl to have my share of the rabbit we'd caught earlier. It was a tiny little thing. Certainly not enough to feed four people; two adults and two adolescents. Carl was not particularly happy about taking my food, but I had ways of persuading him, and eventually he stopped fighting me. Rick's reaction had been the one that really surprised me. I had thought he'd be happy that his son was getting more to eat, but he also seemed concerned when I gave up my half to Carl. Even urged me to eat it. But, as I said, I won out in the end. "Won" being a lose term. I am still unbelievably hungry and if my stomach keeps growling this loudly, I'm positive I'll wake Carl. The faint glow of Rick and Michonne's small fire disappears, completely casting us into darkness. Even the moon doesn't offer us its light, being hidden behind clouds. I settle back into my seat, preparing to go to sleep... but that is rudely interrupted by the sound of voices outside.

Whoever it is, is speaking loud enough for me to hear every word.

"Oh deary me," a first voice says. "You screwed up, asshole. You screwed up. Today's the day of reckoning, sir! Restitution!"

I violently pat Carl on the shoulder to wake him. Whatever is going on out there, it doesn't sound friendly. Not in the least. Carl jolts up with a start. I'm quick to put a finger over my mouth, indicating for him to be silent. He quickly gets the sense that something is wrong and his head swivels around towards the cracked front window, trying to get a view for what's going on. Only, that's not where we should've been looking. A loud noise on our window jolts our attention to our side, where a plump, bearded man was standing, grinning devilishly at the two of us, pushing his knife up against the window. On instinct, I grab Carl's hand tightly, a gesture he returns. My heart is pounding hard in my chest, and I can feel his doing the same through his rapid pulse.

"Shit, and to think, I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year's Eve. Now who's going to help me count down the ball dropper, huh?!" the voice from outside continues, sounding clearly amused with himself.

My eyes finally adjust to the darkness and I can make out multiple men standing on the road, two of which are holding Rick and Michonne at gunpoint. My mind immediately flashes back a month. The night after Hershel's farm when we were on the road in a nearly identical situation. Only this time, I'm on the other end of things. And with that thought, Rick's words from then come back to me.

"_It could've happened to anyone._"

Back then, and even now, I blame myself for what happened. It was my watch and I got snuck up on. But Rick and Michonne are better than me. Its a bad time to realize Rick was right, but nevertheless, I do. It really can happen to anyone. Unfortunately, this time, we may not get our second chance. Carl's breath is understandably labored. He's terrified. And I am too. Very terrified.

"Ten Mississippi! Nine Mississippi!" the man outside begins to count.

"Joe!" a new voice cuts him off.

I turn to see who it is... and my jaw drops.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

Daryl?!

There's no doubt. That jacket with the wings on its back. The crossbow in his hand. The man who was speaking was undoubtedly Daryl Dixon. But what was he doing here?! With these men? My eyes flicker to Tanner. The realization has donned on him too. Even though he's never seen Daryl in his life, I have told him enough stories about Daryl, described him so many times, that its almost impossible for him to _not_ recognize him. But the faint tapping at the window on my other side snaps me back to reality and I can again feel my heart pounding in my chest.

"You stopped me at eight, Daryl." the man holding Dad hisses.

"Just hold up..." Daryl says, voice barely audible from inside the truck.

"We don't have time to talk!" another of the thugs bark.

"The thing about now'a'days," the man holding Dad continues. "Is that we have nothing _but _time. Speak your piece, Daryl."

My breath catches.

I shouldn't hope, but I do. Hope that Daryl can stop these men. Talk them out of whatever they're planning. And while I'm at it, who _are_ these guys? The way they were talking made it sound like they knew Dad. But... I've never seen them. Anywhere. So who could they be? I don't have a chance to think things all the way through, because the talking resumes outside.

"These people," Daryl says carefully. "You're gonna let 'em go. These are good people."

"Now I think Lou would disagree with you on that." the thug replies.

Lou?

Who is Lou?

"And I have to speak for him," the man continues. "Because your friend here strangled him in a bathroom."

_What?_

When did that happen? I have been with Dad in every place we've stopped. We've never encountered these people before. Unless... When we got separated. By the herd. We were apart for three days. If it happened then, I wouldn't have been here, and...

"You want blood, I get it." Daryl says, cutting off my train of thought. I look up in time to see him set down his crossbow. What is he doing?! "Take it from me, man. Come on."

I can barely make out Daryl spreading his arms out, almost as though offering himself as a lamb for the slaughter. Wouldn't that be our luck? We finally find one of our friends, one I _knew_ was alive, only for him to be killed by some raving lunatic and his band of merry men. And all I can do is look helplessly out the window. Beside me, I can see Tanner, out of the corner of my eye, watching the man at our window carefully. I doubt he can do anything if they decide to attack, but the look in his eyes tells me he'll try anyways. I squeeze his hand tighter, as if doing so will grant me some sort of comfort. It doesn't.

"This man killed our friend." the thug named Joe continues. "You say he's good people. You see, that right there is a lie. Its a _lie_!"

And with that, Joe's pals jump Daryl, ignoring Dad's protests. I can hear them punching him, kicking him, _beating _him. My heart rate increases again. This just _can't_ be happening. But it is. Just like it always does.

"Teach him fellas!" Joe commands. "Teach him all the way!"

Suddenly, the door to my right is torn open and two strong hands seize me by my shirt.

"Come here, _boy_!" the man snarls.

And I'm pulled from the truck.

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

"CARL!" I shout upon seeing my helpless boyfriend jerked from the truck.

Acting on instinct, I lunge out of the vehicle after him, only to be blind-sighted by another of our assailants, who tackles me; smashing me hard into the concrete. I'm not about to be taken down that easily, however. Even with my disadvantage, I fight him, as hard as I can. My vision is blurred with pain, but I can still make out Carl, who is being held at knifepoint by the larger thug. Deja vu. Its happening all over again. The road. Carl being dragged away from me. Just like then and just like in all the nightmares I've had since.

"You leave him be!" I hear Rick snarl from somewhere in front of me.

I twist and struggle against the stronger man's grip, earning me a _hard_ punch to the face. The blow has enough force to stagger me, completely freezing my attempts to escape for the moment. I've never been hit that hard in my entire life. My bones seem to vibrate with the force of it and pain travels down my entire nervous system, forcing tears from their ducts. My vision comes too just in time to see Carl's captor press his dirty mouth right into Carl's ear, setting my entire face on fire. Angry fire. I renew my struggle at that point, attempting to elbow my own captor in the stomach to knock the wind out of it. But he's just too strong. I can't shake him off.

"It was me!" Rick protests. "It was just me!"

"See now, that's right!" the thug Daryl had identified as Joe chides Rick. "We can settle this. We're reasonable men. First we're going to beat Daryl to death. Then we'll have the girl... and then the boys. Then I'm going to shoot you and then we'll be square."

I want to kill.

Beating us to death is one thing.

But I know what they meant by "have the girl" and "have the boys". And I know one thing. They'll _have_ me before they do so to either Carl or Michonne. Or they'll have to kill me first. The man on top of me knees me in the gut, forcing a wad of blood up from my stomach, forcing me to spit it out of my mouth. More pain ripples up from my newest wound. The man holding Carl shoves him to the ground and lands on top of him. I immediately stop trying to fight off the one on top of me, instead reaching out futilely towards Carl. My hand is quickly snatched by the thug on top of me and I'm flipped on my stomach. My captor then presses his knee hard into the center of my back causing me to cry out in pain. And it _does _hurt. Terribly.

"Let them go!" Rick snarls.

Joe only laughs at this.

"Stop your squirming!" Carl's captor taunts him.

Carl is viciously thrashing beside me, desperately trying to get away. At the same time, I can hear him sobbing. Crying hard. Anger begins to take firm root in my heart, gripping it like an iron fist. It rules me. Blocks out my pain. My teeth clench, but try as I might, I can't struggle properly without the thug pressing his knee even harder into my back. The entire situation seems hopeless. No matter how angry I get, I just can't break free. The next moment is a blur. I don't know who shot first, or what caused it, but a gunshot rings out through the woods, startling all present. There is new sounds of punching, kicking. Another fight has broken out. Beside me, Carl continues fighting, unknowingly pushing the knife his captor had dropped through the leaves... and right towards me. Another gunshot, only this time, I can see what causes it. Michonne slaps away the gun in her face, causing the man holding it to fire. And with that, I seize my opportunity, snatching the knife that was pushed close to me out of the leaves.

Pushing past the pain, I force myself to push backwards, causing the man pinning me down to lose his balance. That's all I need to flip over and stab him directly in the chest. The pain jolts him, stunning him just long enough for me to remove the knife and stab him again. This time in the head. He drops like a fly. The thug pinning down Carl flips him on his stomach and begins to unsnap his own belt.

_Oh no..._ I think. _Not again._ _Not on my watch._

Just as I am about to take off in Carl's direction, my attention is momentarily snapped away by a scream of pain to my side. Joe, the man who is fighting with Rick, drops to the ground, a piece of his throat missing. A piece that Rick quickly spits out of his mouth. That action is enough to completely stop the other bandits in their tracks, giving Michonne enough time to snatch the gun from the man she's fighting, and kill him with a single shot. Somewhere behind me, I can hear Daryl taking over his own fight, so I return my attention to Carl and his captor. Michonne has the same idea, because she rushes to my side, pointing her gun directly at the man. Deja vu hits me again when the chubby bandit puts his knife firmly against Carl's neck.

"I'll kill him!" Carl's captor threatens. "I'll kill him!"

"Let the boy go!" Michonne demands, holding her gun to him firmly.

I don't know when Rick got beside me, but he quickly interrupts our standoff.

"He's _mine._" Rick asserts coldly.

I recognize those words.

They're mine from a month ago.

Rick is bloodied, his hair an absolute mess. But for once, I relent. Because Carl's captor releases him in fear, allowing Carl to run for safety. Michonne gets to him first, wrapping him up tightly in her embrace. I'm there second, standing protectively in front of the two of them, knife firmly clenched in my hand. Unlike last time, Carl isn't crying, nor is looking away. His gaze fixates staunchly on his father, where mine returns. I watch, unblinkingly, as Rick absolutely mutilates the man who hurt his son. And the only thought that crosses my mind?

I wish I could join him.

####

I don't sleep that night.

Neither does Michonne. Carl, on the other hand, does. Michonne has taken my spot in the truck, allowing Carl to sleep on her lap. I have squeezed myself into the floorboard of the vehicle, right beside them, my head resting against Carl's chest. I watch him sleep in a daze. Its been hours since the attack ended, but it only feels like its been mere minutes. The events keep playing themselves over and over in my mind. Twice now this has happened. Three if you count the marauders in the basement of the funeral home. What is it going to take? For me to be strong enough to protect him. The image of Rick, after he finished mutilating the bandit's body, is ironed into my mind. I've never seen so much blood on a man's face. It was truly terrifying. Even in the previous incidents, I have never seen Rick look that depraved.

Outside I can hear Rick and Daryl talking.

Frankly, I don't care what they are talking about, so I don't listen in. My attention returns completely to Carl, who's eyes have flickered open. I glance up at Michonne who offers me the closest thing to a smile that she can muster. Carl looks up at her first, then me. None of us say anything. If I'm honest, I don't think there is anything for any of us _to_ say. But when his eyes meet mine, I can't help but tearing up. My hand comes up from my lap and rests itself gently against the side of his head, where I push his hair out of his eyes slightly, and then resume just holding his cheek. One tear spills out of the duct and down my cheek. He keeps his eyes on me, but other than that, I can't tell what he's thinking.

Sometime later, we're back on the tracks.

Its the first time I've seen Daryl Dixon in the sunlight. I'm walking quietly beside Carl, hands in my pockets, and Daryl is just a few feet in front of us. He looks drastically different from the way I envisioned him. Carl made him out to seem like some sort of superhero. In reality, he looks just like your average redneck. The same kind I'm use to seeing from my days living in small town Texas. He hasn't said a word to me, so I assume Rick or Michonne has filled him in on my status with the group. In a way, my first meeting with Daryl is much more underwhelming than I imagined it would be, but regardless of that, I can already tell that I like him. Carl once told me that you either like or you don't like Daryl Dixon. There is no gray area. Fortunately, I'd never have to worry about that. Because after the way he offered himself for our lives last night, even despite what ended up happening, I know he is a good guy and that is all that matters to me.

Up ahead, I can hear Rick and Michonne silently talking to each other. I take the opportunity to talk to Carl.

"You alright?" I ask, surprised at just how dreadful my voice sounds today.

He looks up at me, his eyes lacking that sparkle that are usually in them. In fact, they're lifeless. Devoid of feelings. A look I haven't seen since the neighborhood when I first met him.

He nods his head, "Yeah. I'm alright. You?"

I reach my hand out for his. He looks at it for a moment and then reaches out and takes it into his own.

"You're safe... so yeah, I'm just fine." I reply, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

To the side of us, there is another sign for Terminus laying on the ground. Rick approaches it and kicks some of the excess leaves off of it.

"We're getting close." Daryl notes. "We'll be there by sundown."

"Now we go through the woods." Rick says, nodding. "We don't know who the hell they are."

We all silently agree and the five of us begin to make our way through the woods, getting off the railroads once again. As it turns out, we were there much earlier than sundown. As the trees begin to thin, I notice a large gate, complete with several spike traps outside of it, rising in the distance. We collectively speed up to reach the gates. Upon peering through, I lay my eyes upon Terminus for the first time. Its a fairly large complex, railroads converging from all directions at its center. Closest to us is a large building complex, with the word "TERMINUS" sprawled out across several window panes. Something about it isn't right though, to me at least. For a safe haven, it sure seems empty. Too empty, in fact. On that thought, Rick turns around to face us.

"We split up, watch for awhile, see what we see, and get ready." he announces. "Stay close."

We begin to split up, Daryl hanging back close to Rick, while I walk off after Michonne.

"You want to stick with me?" I hear Rick ask Carl.

"Its alright." he replies, and then he's back at my side.

The three of us fan out through the woods, staying fairly close to each other. At first we say nothing, but I'm quickly growing tired with this stale silence that has been filling the void since last night. I decide to speak up.

"Why didn't you go with your dad?" I ask Carl finally.

He says nothing, only offering an indifferent shrug. Well, that's not good enough for me.

I sigh, but before I can get another word in, Michonne cuts me off.

"Do you remember when I told you about Andre?" she says, confusing me in the process, while Carl simply nods. "You never asked _how_ he died."

Now I'm thoroughly confused.

I've never heard the name Andre, so this must have been something Michonne told Carl during one of the times we had split up to do runs in the past. There had been a few here and there. Nevertheless, I continue to listen.

"I knew why." Carl replies.

"Yes, but the how is important." Michonne says.

We stop moving and I lean up against a tree to listen to her tale.

"We went to a refuge camp, with Mike, my boyfriend and Andre's father, and Terry our friend. But things started getting bad. People were leaving, giving up. But not me. I was coming back from a run... I saw the fences down... heard the moans. It was over." by this point, Michonne is visibly in tears, marking the first time I've ever seen her cry. "Mike and Terry were high... Both of them were bit. I could've stopped it. But I _let them turn_. I cut off their arms so they couldn't scratch. Put chains around their necks. It was insane. Sick. It felt like what I deserved. Dragging them around so that I'd always know. I found out that they kept me safe. They hid me. The walkers could no longer see me. I was just another monster. And that was... _me_. I was gone for a _long_ time." Suddenly, Michonne began to smile, despite her tears. "But then Andrea brought me back. Your dad brought me back. You did."

The revelations kept hitting me one after another. Michonne was a mother? I suppose it made sense. A lot of sense. I knew about her walkers, but... not _this_ particular bit about them.

"I see how you've been looking at your dad." she continues. "You don't have to be afraid of me... or him."

I shake my head clear and decide to use the pause to speak up myself.

"When we found each other in that neighborhood," I say, drawing both of their attentions. "I was gone myself. Lost my camp. My family. All my friends. I was in a foreign state, rather than home where I belonged. The sword I carry? I told you I carried it in the hopes of finding someone I could protect with it. That was only partially true. Back then... I thought Nat was dead. I blamed myself for my camp's demise. Still do to this day. I carried those swords as a reminder of my failure. Of the innocent blood that was on my hands, even as I continued to spill blood to survive. Then I met you. You taught me how to love someone unconditionally, when I thought the well of love in my heart had long since run dry. And then there was Michonne. The friend when I needed one most. And your dad has been more a father to me than mine ever was. And suddenly, I could feel again. I came back. Because of _you_."

I see Michonne smile out of the corner of my eye. Carl's expression has drastically softened, the flame in his eyes that have been missing since last night starting to ignite again, and he continues to study me without saying anything.

"We get to come back." I continue. "From everything we've done."

Carl's facade finally collapses and he opens his own mouth to speak.

"He told me the other day that he was proud of me..." he says. "That I was a good man. But I'm not. I know more now about what he wanted for me. And I tried, but I still have these thoughts... I'm not what he thinks I am." Then looking at me, he says: "I'm not who _you_ think I am. I'm just another monster too."

Michonne and I move in unison, each wrapping part of ourselves around him, in what must be the first group hug I've ever been apart of. And suddenly, everything just feels _right_. This entire past month, all I've felt is dread and fear. If not about losing Carl, or the group, then about the family whose fate I still don't know. To me, they're dead. I'll never see them again. We're half the country apart from each other. An army of undead between me and them. And for the longest time, I envied Carl. He still has a parent and even though he's lost his sister and mother, he was at least with them after The Turn. He at least knows what happened to them. But me? I'd never know that feeling. Have that peace of mind, if that's what you could even call it. Not until, that is, right now. Because it doesn't matter what happened to them. Its something I can never change. An event beyond my mere mortal control. But right here, right now, I'm holding on to my family. _My _family. Carl. Michonne. Rick, though he's not here at the moment. And even though I don't know him yet, Daryl too. We're one hell of a group of misfits, but we're family.

And that prompts my response to Carl.

"You're the man I love." I whisper to him, kissing his forehead delicately. Lovingly. "That's who _you_ are to me. And that's all that matters."

####

Half an hour passes and once more we're a group of five.

Rick leads us over a nearby fence, dropping us right into the back area of Terminus. Daryl is second to clear the fence, then me, then Carl, and finally Michonne. We're close to one of the railroads leading out of the complex. Its eerily quiet here. As I've said, it just seems too desolate to be a refugee camp, and yet, as devoid as it seems of humans, it seems even more devoid of walkers. That just doesn't seem possible to me. But we're not taking any risks. All five of us prepare our weapons and begin to advance into the complex as a unit. Daryl leads us into one of the backmost buildings and we all quickly file in. Immediately, I can hear a voice speaking, echoing through the halls.

"Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive, survive. Terminus. Sanctuary for all. Community for a-"

"Hello." Rick interrupts the woman speaking as we push our way into the room.

The people assembled there, all five of them, seem visibly surprised to see us. That is, until one, a thin man making what looks to be the signs we saw on the tracks, sighs in palpable anger.

"Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch." the man huffs. "You hear to rob us?"

"No." Rick replies. "We wanted to see you before you saw us."

"Makes sense." the man replies, stepping forward. "Usually we do this where the tracks meet. Welcome to Terminus! I'm Gareth. Looks like you all have been on the road for a good bit."

"We have." Rick answers plainly. "I'm Rick. That's Carl, Tanner, Daryl, and Michonne."

Gareth gives us a rather half-hearted wave.

"You're nervous, I get it! We were all the same way." he says, stepping closer. "We came here for sanctuary. That what you're here for?"

"Yes." Rick says.

"Excellent," Gareth replies, motioning for one of the men behind him. "This is not nearly as pretty as the front. Now, we have nothing to hide, but the welcoming wagon is much better. Alex will take you, ask you a few questions, but first... we need to see everyone's weapons."

Red flag number one.

I don't like that. I mean, I can understand _why_ they'd want to see our weapons, but as I've said before, I haven't been with people outside of my group in a very long time. To say that I'm distrustful would be a gross understatement. Nevertheless, as long as they don't have us surrender them, I suppose I will comply. And so, along with Rick, Carl, Michonne, and Daryl I remove my weapons - namely my sword, gun, and knife - and lay them carefully at my feet. Gareth then instructs us to spread our arms and legs and before long, each of us is being patted down. It was an awkward experience to say the least, but each of us manages to pass the test. When Alex reaches Daryl, he immediately notices the wound on the redneck's eye, from the scuffle with Joe and his men last night.

"I'd hate to see the other guy." he notes half in jest.

"You would." Rick interjects.

"They deserve it?" Alex asks as he pats down Carl.

"Yes." Carl replies.

"Make that a _hell_ yes." I add, venom in my voice as I recall the fat fuck that put his hands on Carl. It was _still_ boiling my blood.

"Just so you know, we're not those kind of people." Gareth explains. "But we're not stupid either. We hope you're not stupid enough to try anything stupid."

Once their done, Alex comes around and hands us all back our weapons. That is, except for Daryl, who quickly snatches up his crossbow before Alex even lays a finger on it. With that, Alex leads us out of the building and into the front Terminus complex. The place is... nice. Too nice, but then again, I haven't been in a refugee camp for over a year and a half now. In fact, the scene couldn't be more picturesque. Birds chirping, the sun setting in the distance, flowers blooming in the multiple gardens spread across the main complex. It appears I'm not the only one that is slight suspicious about the layout of the place because Carl, Rick, and Michonne are carefully observing our surroundings as well.

"How long's this place been here?" Daryl asks in the meantime.

"Oh, since about the beginning." Alex replies.

We round the corner of come buildings and come to an outdoor picnic area. In the center, a woman with long red hair is cooking on a large grill. Elsewhere, on the benches surrounding us, are the first survivors other than the welcoming crew I've seen here. And even then there is a scarce amount of them. All of their eyes are on us. The woman, whom Alex calls "Mary", greets us and continues with her cooking. Just as I'm starting to relax at the feel of this place, I notice the expression on Rick's face. He'll looking at something. Something on Alex. And the look he's making tells me that something is _very _wrong. But what? Glancing at Alex, I can't see anything alarming about him. Nevertheless, I raise my guard again. I suppose its good to be ready. Just in case.

"Hey Mary, would you fix each of these new folks a plate for me?" Alex is saying.

"Why do you do it?" Michonne asks him suddenly. "Why do you let people in?"

"When people become apart of us, we get stronger." Alex replies.

Red flag number two.

Its subtle, but the way he says that sends a creepy chill down my spine. I just can't put my finger on why, though. Alex reaches for two plates that Mary is handing him and he begins to hand them to us. Carl takes one, then me, and then Michonne. Cooked meat. I can already feel myself salivating. I glance at Carl, who grins at me for the first time today. Hunger has overtaken his cold demeanor and it seems that, at least for the moment, it's brought him back. But that is quickly shoved aside when Rick violently seizes Alex and points his gun at his head. The rest of us immediately have the same reaction. My sword comes out in one hand, my gun in the other. Carl, Michonne, and Daryl have raised their weapons as well. Of course, the same reaction happens on the other side. The "survivors" that have been watching us have all drawn their weapons and are watching carefully.

"Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick demands.

I glance back to see what the hell Rick is talking about. He has, in his hands, a golden pocket watch. But aside from that, I'm completely unclear as to why it's important, so I return my gaze to the other survivors, keeping myself ready to move at any moment.

"You want answers?!" Alex shouts frightfully. "You want anything else? You get 'em when you put down the gun."

"I see your man on the roof with the sniper rifle. How good's his aim?" Rick continues to goad him.

My gaze slips upward towards the roof where Rick indicated. Sure enough, there is a man on the roof, holding a sniper rifle. Instinctively, my left hand, holding my gun, goes upwards, lining up with him. Carl, Daryl, and Michonne have the ground pretty well covered, so I'll take the guy on the roof. I'll never know how we keep getting ourselves into these situations, but I know Rick has a good reason for doing what he's doing. I trust him. And this time, I'm not going to fail to protect Carl.

"Now where'd you get the watch?!" Rick screams in Alex's ear.

"I got it off a dead one!" Alex exclaims, voice shaky. "I didn't think he needed it anymore."

"What about the riot gear? The poncho?" Rick questions, gesturing towards the survivors wearing said objects.

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop. Found the poncho on a clothes line." Gareth suddenly appears from our side, arms up in surrender.

"Gareth, we can wait!" Alex says cryptically.

"Shut up, Alex."

"You talk to me!" Rick barks.

"What's there left to say? You don't trust us anymore." Gareth replies, folding his arms in front of him.

He's awfully calm given the situation.

"Rick, what do you want?" Gareth presses.

"Where are our people?"

And then it all clicks into place. The watch. The riot gear. The poncho. They must belong to Glenn and Maggie, the only other two we knew for sure was heading this direction. Rick must have seen them on the survivors and put two and two together. I tighten my grip on my weapons. Finally, a chance to make good on my promise to Carl. I'll help him rescue his friends. At all cost.

"You didn't answer the question." Gareth says.

And then there is gunfire. Rick wheels around just in time to use Alex as a human body shield to deflect the bullets at his person. With gunfire breaking out, we break into motion. Rick yells at Carl to get down, so I spring into action, grabbing Carl by the wrist and pull him along behind me towards the side buildings. Michonne is just in front of us, Daryl to our side. Bullets ricochet off the ground by my feet, but miraculously, I avoid contact. Seems the others are having just as good of luck. We burst into the building we initially came from, but, in true horror movie fashion, the door lowers until it is completely shut, cutting us off. Not one's to be deterred, we burst through a black door marked "A" and into an adjacent courtyard where the gunfire resumes. Again, it only strikes around our feet, leading me to believe that either the Terminus gunmen were the worst shots in Georgia, or this was deliberate. We pass several chain lengths fences and some large red crates.

And that's when the true horror begins.

Banging can be heard on the inside of the crates along with screams for help. But there is no time to process what may be happening as we continue to run for cover. We push our way into another room, where the imagery continues its horrifying descent into darkness. A room full of candles, arranged in what I can only describe as a Satanic circle. Names are inscribed all over the floor and walls.

"The fuck is this?" I exclaim, looking it over.

"Whoever they are," Michonne replies. "I don't think they're trying to kill us."

"No," Rick interjects. "They're aiming at our feet."

So he's noticed it too.

Rick spots another door marked "A" and we proceed to crash through it into a third courtyard. As it turns out, that ends up being the end of the line. We're surrounded on either side. Gunmen on the roof, by the fences, behind us. There is absolutely no way for us to run anymore, bringing our five-man group to a screeching halt.

"Drop your weapons!" Gareth's voice rings out. "Now!"

Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be any choice. And so, after some initial hesitation, I and the others begin to lower our weapons, dropping them to the ground at our feet. It dawns on me, as it has many times before, that this could be it. We'd be shot and killed right here after having finally reaching Terminus after a month long journey. I look at Carl, who glances back understandingly at me. He feels it too, I can tell.

"Ringleader!" Gareth commands to Rick. "Go to your left, the train car."

Rick hesitates, his eyes on Carl.

"You do what we say, the boy goes with you. If you don't, he dies, and you wind up in there anyways." Gareth threatens.

My blood freezes and suddenly my eyes are on Rick, imploring him to go towards the car. Slowly, he finally relents and makes the agonizing journey across the courtyard until he's standing in front of a small makeshift set of stairs leading into the train car.

"Next, the archer." Gareth commands.

Daryl flashes the Terminus leader a wary glance before leaving his bow behind and following Rick's footsteps to the train car.

"Next, the dual wielder."

That's me.

I give Carl a longing look, then one to Michonne, and have to outright force my legs to move. But that doesn't stop me from looking back at Carl the whole way until I'm behind Daryl by the train car.

"Now the samurai."

Michonne joins us, leaving Carl completely exposed in the courtyard. Its agonizing, the wait. All I can do is look on in worry, praying to God they don't open fire and kill Carl right there. His gaze meets mine and I hold his. I can feel my breath catch. And I won't breath another until he's safely with me again.

"Stand at the door: Ringleader, archer, dual wielder, samurai: in that order." Gareth barks at us.

We're already in that order, but we straighten our line, all four of us with our eyes trained on Carl the entire time.

"My son!" Rick demands.

_Please..._ I pray silently.

"Go, kid." Gareth relents and then Carl is running to us. "Ringleader, open the door and go in!"

"I'll go when he's here!" Rick argues.

"Don't make us kill him now." Gareth retorts.

"Rick..." I hiss, urging him forward.

Rick regards me, then Carl, and then reluctantly climbs up, pushing the red train car door open. He enters, then Daryl, then me, and finally Michonne. Its only a few seconds, but Carl seems to take forever to finally clamber into the hot, dark chamber. As soon as I lay eyes on him, I lunge forward, pulling him into my embrace. I let out a single heave of relief, feeling several tears fall free of their ducts. He's quick to return my hug and I hold onto him tightly. Very tightly. Twice in the span of two days, I've come within a hair's width of losing him, so I wasn't letting go anytime soon. The door is slid shut behind us and I hear a lock snap into place. Movement from the other corner of the crate catches us all by surprise and we turn to see who our visitors are. A petite Asian man steps out of the shadows into the middle of the train car. Then a woman.

"Rick?!"

"You're here..." Rick states.

And it suddenly hits me. Its Glenn and Maggie. I've never seen them before, but I'm smart enough to put two and two together. Now and African American man and woman step forward. Two other women, a chubby man with a mullet, and a large muscular man with red hair join them soon after.

"They're our friends." Maggie says, referring to the group behind her. "They helped save us."

"Yeah," Daryl says with what I think is a grin on his face. "Now they're friends of ours."

Glenn's eyes fall on me, who am, myself, still clinging to Carl.

"This is a friend of _mine._" Carl declares.

Glenn nods once understandingly and I nod in return.

"For however long that'll be." the red-haired man says, heading back towards the other end of the car.

"No." Rick suddenly says. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out..."

My eyebrow goes up and I'm not the only one.

"Find out what?" the red-haired man asks, turning back towards us.

"They're screwing with the wrong people."

I can't resist a grin, despite the circumstances, at that statement.

"Hell yeah..." I mutter to myself, giving Carl a squeeze.

Its only a matter of time...

* * *

**A/N: Holy fuck that's a long chapter. Longest I've ever written, though most of it was a recap of the episode, with a few additions here and there. Next chapter will be out in a day or so and I'll be going off in my own direction. I'll answer reviews, both previous, and to this one in that chapter. In other news, holy fuck what a Finale. Gonna miss TWD until Fall. Review, comment, follow, and favorite. Remember, if you have suggestions, feel free to PM me. **

**Later everyone.**


	27. Fear: Terminus

I know their names now.

All of them.

Its not just Glenn and Maggie. Its Glenn, Maggie, Bob, Sasha, Tara, Abraham, Eugene, and Rosita. This brings our group, in the span of a mere two days, from four, to five, and now thirteen. Though we're not in the best of conditions at the moment. A day has passed since we were locked up in this train car. Its dark, as barely any sunlight filters though the cracks in the car. We've been fed once; some measly cereal and powdered milk. It was disgusting, even compared to the shit I've been eating the whole month on the road prior to this. Other than that, though, the Terminus survivors have left us entirely on our own. Currently, we're all sitting in a large circle at the center of the car. Carl is next to me, resting his head on my shoulder. This has earned us several looks from Glenn and the other "newcomers", but they seem to see the bigger issue here, the fact that we're being held prisoner, rather than two teenage boys cuddling for comfort.

"How did you all end up in here?" Daryl is asking Glenn.

"We came in from the front. Everything seemed normal. They offered us food, a place to sleep. When night came, they ambushed us. Took our weapons, gear, and threw us in here. Been here ever since." Glenn replies.

He and Maggie are mirroring Carl and I in a manner that is almost creepy to observe. We're both on exact opposite ends of the circle, Maggie leaning on him in almost the exact same position Carl is on me. Now I understand what Michonne meant when she told me we reminded her of them.

"Doesn't matter how we all got in here." I speak up, rousing their attention. "What matters is how we get _out_."

"The kid speaks the truth." Sasha speaks up. "How the hell are we going to get out of here?"

Now its Maggie's turn to speak, completely ignoring Sasha and I's suggestion for a topic, "Rick, who's this kid?"

"Yeah, you never told us his story." Glenn replies.

They have a point. Last night, we learned how Tara, Abraham, Eugene, and Rosita had found come to be with Glenn, as well as how that eventually led to his reunion with Maggie, Bob, and Sasha. "We" being myself, Rick, Michonne, and Daryl and I am only included in this loosely. For the most part, I was focusing on Carl at the time, who ended up sleeping in my lap for a second night in a row. I hadn't offered up my story. Rick turns to me, but, before he can speak up, Carl lifts his head off my shoulder and answers instead.

"This is Tanner, he's my..." he trails off for a moment, while everyone looks at him expectantly. He glances over at me, I suppose to make certain I'm okay with him going completely public about the nature of our relationship. I simply smile and nod. "Boyfriend." he finishes.

I expect the shocked looks I get.

"Its a long story." I interject. "One that should wait until _after _we save our asses."

"How?" Maggie replies, more to the group as a whole, than just me. "There are no openings in here. No cracks we can take advantage of. The only way out is that door there and its locked."

"And getting out of here is only half the problem." Sasha joins in. "Even if we do get out of this car, where do we go from here?"

"Well, I know where we _don't_ go." I reply. "Back to that room full of Satanic candles and writing."

This statement earns me a confused look from Glenn and his band of survivors.

"You guys never saw much, did you?" I continue. "I don't know what that room was, but the vibe it gave me had 'human sacrifice' written all over it."

"And don't forget about those corpses." Michonne chimes in.

I'd forgotten about that. Recalling back to the confrontation in Terminus yesterday, I do remember passing a mound of skeletons before we were trapped by Gareth and his goons. The whole situation is unsettling.

"What even _is_ this place?" Tara mutters.

"A trap." Rick states plainly. "Those signs on the railroad. The broadcasts they were sending out. They're trying to lure survivors here."

"For what?" Tara presses.

"Whatever it is," I say. "I don't think I want to know."

####

When night finally arrives, it feels like an eternity has passed.

We've been fed again by this point, but I don't touch the food. Its not appetizing in the least and I'm not on the brink of starvation _yet_. Carl is clearly hungry, however, because, fickle an eater though he is, he is ravenously tearing away at the gunk the goons have given him. Our circle has long since dissolved and he and I are off in our own corner of the car, close enough to Rick if something happens, but far enough to have some space from the others. The waiting is the worst part. Not knowing what they have planned for us or if we'll ever be free again. I have to admit, weapons or not, I have a hard time believing that the Terminus survivors can contain us forever without taking one of our own hostage, and that worries me even more. But there's nothing I can do. Nothing but sit here and wait. Carl finishes eating and pushes his plate aside before scooting back beside me. About that time a cloud must've covered the moon, because the entire rail car goes completely dark._  
_

"This is so stupid..." I hear him mutter under his breath.

"What is?"

"This," he replies. "After all we've been through, all the things we've done to get here, we're just going to be caged like animals. Probably killed too."

"You don't know that." I argue.

"What other possibility is there?"

I sit up straight and turn to face his direction, struggling to make out his facial features in the pitch darkness.

"There are thirteen heads in this train car, yours and mine included." I explain. "We'll find a way out."

"And then what?" Carl spits frustratingly. "We get gunned down? We have no weapons, no escape route, and they outnumber us."

"Getting gunned down is still a lot better than sitting here waiting to die." I snap back. "You said it yourself. We've been through so much. You especially. You told me how horrible the prison attack was and you made it out of that alive."

"I had a gun then." he continues to argue.

"A gun is only as useful as its wielder." I retort. "You're smart and that counts for a lot more than a magazine of shrapnel. We'll survive this. _You_ will survive this. Just like we always do."

I hear him sigh loudly to himself. I can tell he's not convinced. Not that I blame him. I talk a good game, but the situation is looking pretty bleak while we still lack a plan. The moon peaks back out from the clouds which were covering it, its light leaking through the cracks in the train car, casting us in a low light. All of the people with Glenn's group are asleep on their side of the train car, but I can faintly make out Rick and Michonne sitting directly in front of the door, watching it meticulously. I don't know what they plan to do if it ever opens. Its not like we can fight back. Everyone they've sent in here so far has been armed to the teeth. That leaves us with few options when approaching this. I return my gaze to the boy beside me. Carl isn't trying to sleep, even though his fatigue is visibly apparent, despite the poor lighting. I feel my gaze soften and I carefully reach out and rest my hand on his knee. He doesn't fight me off, but he doesn't acknowledge me either. I pat his leg gently before pushing myself up and gradually making my way over to where Rick and Michonne are sitting. Rick is the one who notices my approach.

"How is he?" the elder Grimes asks, motioning towards his son.

"As good as can be expected, given the circumstances." I reply truthfully. Rick nods in response. "Got any ideas?"

"Only one." Rick answers. "But its not going to be easy."

"Care to let me in on it?"

Rick Grimes returns his gaze to me, studying me closely. I admit, this is the first time I have taken the initiative in speaking with him in a conversational manner, but, given the circumstances, I figure now is no time to be intimidated by Carl's father. Truth be told, Rick has gained immense respect from me, especially after the other night with Joe's bandits. He looks somehow older to me in the moonlight, the creases in his forehead becoming more prominent, and I can see the look of stress in his eyes. This whole situation is weighing on him. I know he only wants our safety and that can be a lot for one man to bear alone. Eventually, however, he nods and begins to divulge his master plan.

"When they feed us," Rick begins. "They come in one at a time. Armed to the teeth, but only one. Michonne and I have been watching through the cracks in this door and we've learned that, in addition to that, they keep one armed guard in the courtyard we were captured in at all times."

"Okay," I reply, nodding as I process the information. "What can we do about that?"

"They feed us twice a day." he continues. "Once in the morning and once at sunset. We wait for sunset. When the guy with our food shows up, one of us will stand off to the side and jump him when his guard is down. We take him out silently and get his weapons. More than likely, that will draw the attention of the other guard, who will come to investigate. We repeat the process. Once both are down, we find a way out of here."

Genius, but simple.

In fact, it almost sounds too easy. Too good to be true. And what is too good to be true, usually is. Still, its all we have to work with. But the look on Rick's face tells me he's not done with the details of his plan just yet.

"In the woods," he starts up again. "Before we hopped the fences, I buried the bag that contained our extra weapons. Just in case. If we can circle around and get that, we should have enough guns and ammo to arm everyone, or at least _most_ everyone."

"Sound plan." I reply, agreeing with him.

"We only have one shot at this. We can't risk screwing this up. If we do, we're dead." he stresses. "We'll fill everyone in on it in the morning."

I nod again.

It's bleak, I realize, but he's right. We do only have one shot. If we mess it up, we're as good as dead. And being dead in this world has new, brutal consequences. I look back in Carl's direction, noticing that he's still staring blankly into space. Everything that has transpired the past couple of days has taken its toll on him. I want nothing more than to comfort him. To reassure him that everything is going to be alright, but this time, I know that words alone won't ease his discomfort. Its going to take actions this time. Actions can't be refuted. I stand up to return to where he is, but, a thought coming to me, stop in my tracks and turn back to face Rick.

"Rick?" I say.

He looks back up at me.

"Whatever happens, I promise I'll keep Carl safe. Even if it costs me."

Rick's eyes meet mine and he abruptly stands to his feet. His demeanor is serious and completely devoid of any discernible emotion. He stands before me, not in a threatening manner, but I can tell he means business; shoulders and legs spread apart equally. He holds my gaze and I hold his. Out of the corner of my vision, I can see Michonne watching us carefully. She doesn't seem to know what is happening, but I do. I've seen my own dad do this before, whenever he was trying to make whatever he was about to say seem absolutely important or crucial. And Rick Grimes does mean business. Finally, he breaks the silence, ending the suspense I was beginning to feel suspended in.

"I know you will." he says. "You're a good man, Tanner." he adds. "A good man."

My mind flashes back to Carl's words just minutes before we entered Terminus the day before. According to him, Rick had said the same thing to him several days prior. At the time, Carl disagreed, saying he was just another "monster", even though I knew he was wrong. He's not a monster. Still, Rick's words sink deep into my soul and I manage to offer a genuine smile. If I'm a "good man", I have no one but Carl to thank for that. I was well on my way to becoming a cold, detached, inhuman _thing_ when we found each other. I shutter to think what I might have become if I had just kept walking that day I saved him in the woods. Being with Carl, and having Rick and Michonne around as role models, has brought me back from that. I can only hope that someday Carl will have the same revelation.

"I trust you with his life." the elder Grimes continues. "Its not a trust I give freely, but you've earned it."

That is a little too much for me. I feel hot tears stinging at the back of my eyes. Even without his words, I know that Rick's trust is hard to earn. Especially when it comes to Carl. I know Michonne has it, but her circumstances are much different from my own. Compared to her, I am still a newcomer, and a kid barely a year and a half older than Carl himself. So for Rick to admit he trusts me with Carl's life really speaks volumes to me about the distance I've crossed over the last month. How far I've come.

"I'll make sure you never regret that choice." I reply, fighting back the tears.

"See to it you don't." Rick replies and then he turns and fades off into the shadows of the car.

Michonne takes the opportunity to step forward, offering me a small, understanding glance that is barely visible in the moonlight. She and I both watch as Rick walks over to Carl, says his good nights, and then sinks down against a nearby wall to get some sleep. Carl still seems to be in some sort of trance. Its worrying me, I admit. Suddenly, I feel a hand touch my arm and my head swivels to see the source. Of course, its just Michonne, attempting to draw my attention back to her.

"You should go to him." she whispers. "He needs someone."

I nod silently, but then, without warning, step forward and envelop her in a hug. Initially she's surprised, however, pursing her lips as she does, she returns my hug. Its loose, but it will do.

"I've never thanked you." I whisper back to her.

"For what?"

"For everything." I reply. "Always being there. It means a lot."

We pull apart and she nods at me understandingly, offering me a slight smile. She gives me a slight pat on my back and, with that, I take off back in the direction of Carl. A new sense of purpose filling each step. When I reach him, I quickly kneel in front of him, blocking his line of sight from whatever it is he's so entranced with. His eyes flick upwards, meeting mine, but his expression doesn't change. Still blank, unfeeling, stoic. I quickly place my hands on both sides of his face and gently pull him to me, feeling his hot breath on my skin just before my lips meet his. I don't care that anyone can wake up right now and see us. And I don't care if Rick or Michonne are watching either. Instead, I devote myself and all of my attention to the kiss. He's unresponsive at first, so I continue to kiss him. His lips are dry and coarse against my moist ones.

I press my lips tightly against his and then release him again, only this time, I catch him watching me, more intently than before. The blood splatter on his cheek accents his eyes in the moonlight. Both of those cerulean globes search mine for several long, agonizing moments, but eventually he relents, and leans in, closing his eyes as he does, pressing his rough lips against mine. This time, he grants me entrance, and I'm able to slip my tongue into his mouth. Instinctively, my hands come up further, my fingers lacing through his thick hair. I brush his hair sweetly out of his eyes as I move in for another mouth lock, only we stop short of kissing this time, simply allowing the heat of our breath to gently caress the other's skin. Our noses brush together and his eyes continue to flutter between open and shut. When they finally open and stay open, his gaze again finding mine, I can't help but get lost in those two perfect pools of infinite blue.

"I'm here." I soothe him, our noses still brushing ever so gently together. "You're not alone. You're never alone."

I press another kiss to his lips. They soak up the moisture of my own lips, curing them of their dry, rough state in favor of saturation until I can once again feel the smoothness of his moist lips. I then pull back again, forehead resting against his, breath coming in short gasps now, as my body tries to reclaim lost oxygen. My right hand slides around to the back of his head, where I gently cradle it, keeping it pressed lightly into my own.

"We're gonna get out of here." I continue. "Tomorr-"

"You don't know that." he argues, cutting me off. But I'm not fooled. I can hear the emotional inflection in his voice, forcing it to crack, even though he's trying to whisper. He _wants_ to believe it, no matter how hard he tries to deny it.

"Carl." I interject firmly, preventing him from arguing further. "We _are_ getting out of here. Then you can tell me whatever it is that's buggin' you so bad."

I kiss him a final time; simple peck-and-release; and then settle down beside him, back up against the edge of the train car. I lightly pat my lap, inviting him to lay down. I know sleep will be hard to come by for both of us, especially given our situation, but I want to offer him as much comfort as I can possibly muster. He looks at me one last time before sinking down, head resting right above my knees. I remove his hat for him and place it beside us, combing back his untidy hair with my hand afterwards. He sighs and I resume stroking his hair, figuring that it will bring him some sort of comfort until he slips into sleep.

"I love you, Carl." I whisper to him. "I love you so much..."

I feel him snuggle down into my lap, making himself comfortable. The train car may not be the Holiday Inn, but perhaps my lap pillow will be a tad bit more comfortable than the cold steel floor of the car. And with that, his breathing steadies, and I feel him slip off to sleep, his weariness finally taking him. With him taken care of, my thoughts wander to Rick's plan for tomorrow. I'm nervous for sure, but looking around at the sleeping forms surrounding me, I admit that I can feel the slight glimmer of hope. The guys have been through a lot. _I_ have been through a lot. Situations like this and those that are much worse alike. At this point, there are only two options. Survive or die.

And I choose to survive.

####

The sun rises like a dreadful omen.

Today is the day.

Rick waits until the first meal has been given to us by our captors before assembling the group at the center of the train car to go over his plan. He then launches into a speech in which he divulges the same information he gave me the night prior. All twelve of us are silent as he speaks, though I can gauge, from everyone's facial expressions, that they are completely on board with Rick's plan right from the start. And that begins to build my hope. With thirteen of us working together, there isn't a doubt in my mind we'll escape the train car. Escaping Terminus, on the other hand, is still an iffy situation, but at the very least, I'm more confident about our escape now than I was the night before.

That is, until midday came.

We are all startled when the door to our train car unexpectedly swings open. A familiar, but unwanted figure, is standing in the doorway. Gareth. None of us expected his arrival and so, despite the plan, nobody makes a move against him. Not that any of us could, anyways. None of us were close enough to him to catch him off guard and to make matters worse, he has two armed escorts standing just outside the train car.

"Looks like you've all settled in nicely." he comments. His voice is deceptively friendly, as is the smile on his face.

"What do you want?" Rick snarls from his corner of the car.

"Relax, Ringleader." Gareth snaps, calling Rick by his moniker. "We just need to borrow one of your friends."

"Borrow?" its Tara that speaks up this time. "For what?"

"Unfortunately," Gareth says. "I'm a little short on time, so the explanation is going to have to wait. Now then, how about you?"

My blood freezes. Because the ringleader of Terminus is pointing directly at me. I can feel every single hair on my arms stand on end. What the hell did he want with _me_? Of all of us, I've had the least amount of interaction with him in the short time we've been here, but there is no mistaking it. He's singled me out, drawing everyone's gaze to me.

"No." Rick snaps in response. "You can take me, but not-"

Gareth quickly shuts Rick up by pulling his hand gun... and directing it right at Carl. My breath hitches. If its between me going with Gareth and Carl living, I won't hesitate to go where he tells me, but I pray Rick is as shrewd. If Carl were to be shot, I don't think I could handle it. Even now. Even in this situation.

"Stop." I interrupt them, placing my hands up in a surrendering fashion. "I'll do what you ask. Just don't shoot him... Please."

Gareth smiles at this, "Good. Easy and simple."

"No, Tann-" Carl starts to protest, but I'm quick to cut him off.

"No, Carl!" I snap. "I don't have a choice."

I take one final look around the room. Everyone's faces are grave, eyes fixated completely on me. Throughout the entire moment of agonizing silence, Gareth keeps his gun trained on Carl's forehead. Carl, himself, is gritting his teeth. I can tell he's frustrated, angry, worried, and helpless. His posture suggests that he wants to move. Wants to do something. But he can't. I know he can't and he knows he can't. Michonne's face is full of rage, but I can see her gaze flickering towards me every couple of seconds. She's in the same state as Carl. Wanting to help, but helpless to do so.

"Now, just wait a minute." Rick tries to argue. "W-We can work this out."

"There's nothing to be discussed, Rick." Gareth snaps, his demeanor suddenly becoming cold. "Now, let's go."

With his freehand, he motions for me to walk towards the door. I close my eyes and exhale loudly. My heart thuds loudly in my chest, enough for me to feel it all the way to my toes. And I know. In that moment, I know that this very well could be the last time I see everyone. Even more frightening, I know its the last time _they_ may see me alive. Whatever Gareth and his people are planning, it doesn't seem to be for the short term. Not the way he's speaking. Reluctantly, I force my legs to move, slowly crossing the train car, past Gareth, towards the threshold. The sunlight sears my eyes, as I haven't seen it in its full might in several days. Casting one longing look back at Carl, who can only watch helplessly from where he's at, I step down out of the car and out of sight.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

Anger.

Searing anger.

I want to lunge for Tanner, but that gun pointed at my head is preventing me from moving anywhere. He casts me one last glance before stepping through the doorway and then I lose sight of him completely. The sudden surge of emotions that rolls through me is almost too much to bear. I want to scream, fight back, and cry all at the same time. How can he just be gone like that? How could I have just _let_ him get taken? Gareth lowers his gun to walk out of the car and I, acting on rage alone, lunge for the entrance.

"Carl!" I hear Dad shout from behind me.

Suddenly, I'm scooped up from behind, preventing me from going any further. I know who it is. Dad is preventing me from chasing after them and by now, its already too late. The door separating us from the outside world shuts and I can hear the lock latch. The rage that has been blocking the sorrow building in my heart collapses in that moment, I feel my knees go weak, and I collapse to the floor of the car, falling out of Dad's grasp. The tears staining my eyes, rolling down my cheeks, are matched by the uncontrollable sobs that escape through my mouth. But I make no effort to stop them. Chest heaving, my nose starts to run, and the tears just keep cascading. Now I've lost someone else. Shane, Mom, Judith, and now Tanner too. All gone. The pain is unbearable; like a freshly stitched wound that has been forcibly ripped back open. I feel someone pull me into an embrace, squeezing me tightly. I blink back tears to make out who it is.

Michonne.

I should've guessed.

"We've gotta find a way out." I hear Dad barking somewhere behind me. "NOW!"

"There _is_ no way out." the man named Abraham argues. "We're locked in again."

"Stick to the plan, Rick." Michonne speaks up above me. "We'll get out of here and find him."

"He might not have that long." Glenn chimes in.

My stomach heaves. Suddenly I feel sickness crashing over me like a wave. Its anxiety, I know, and its made no better by the tears that continue to pour down my cheeks. I need to find a way out of here. To find Tanner. There just _has_ to be a way. But if there is, I'm not seeing one. I force myself to my feet, pushing myself out of Michonne's grip, and stumble towards the locked doorway. I think my sudden movement startles the others, because they stop arguing to see what I'm doing. My fists slam into the door, futilely pounding away at its metal exterior.

"LET US OUT!" I bellow, digging deep to bring out the full force of my voice. "LET US OUT!"

"CARL! That's enough!" Dad snaps behind me.

I spin around on the ball of my heel to face him, rage flying from the pit of my stomach, up into my chest cavity. I feel as though steam is going to erupt from my ears and nose. My face and ears feel super-heated.

"Why didn't you stop him?" I hiss, teeth gritted tightly together. "You _let_ him get taken!"

"What would you suggest I have done?" Dad barks back at me. "Let him shoot you? And then he takes Tanner anyways!"

I flinch at that.

He has a point. I hate that.

"This anger is getting us nowhere." Sasha speaks up.

"She's right." its Bob. "We need to put our heads together. Figure this out. But yelling at each other? That's not gonna help us or him."

"Neither is talking about it all day." I retort angrily.

Michonne approaches me from the side, grabbing each of my arms in one of her hands while pulling me around to face her. Her expression is grave, worried, and exhausted, but her eyes haven't lost that piercing quality. She glares at me and I can tell she's dead serious.

"We're going to find him." she replies, her voice much more soothing than the others. "But in order to do that, we have to get out of here. On _our_ terms. That requires a level head and some talking. Between all of us, including you. Can you do that?"

Michonne always finds a way to sound reasonable. I still don't like the idea of just standing around here talking, waiting, while they could be killing Tanner as we speak, but it really appears as though I don't have any choice left. And so, with that in mind, I reluctantly nod at her. She nods back at me, offering me a half smile, and releases me from her grip. I quickly use my new freedom to wipe the remaining tears from my eyes. A familiar coldness fills the void where anger once was. I know this cold. Its the coldness I felt after Mom's death. After Judith's. And if Tanner really is gone forever? It will be a coldness I will endure for the rest of my life.

"Alright then," I finally say. "Talk."

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

I've never been handcuffed before, but now, with these rope bindings tightly constricting my wrists behind my back, I can at least imagine what the experience would have been like.

Numbness is setting in. Gareth has been talking the entire time, since he took me from the train car, but I haven't been listening to a word of it. In a way, its almost as though there is static in my ears. I remember this feeling. Its the way I felt prior to meeting Carl. Back when I would wake up hating the world, wondering if that was the day it was finally going to come to an end. My attention is momentarily drawn when the Terminus leader pushes open a small door on the side of one of the camp's buildings, leading me right back into that creepy room of candles. I cringe at the sight of it. The creepy vibes are back. Still, this time I'm not running for cover, so I'm able to get a real good look at the room. In addition to the numerous candles spread out in various patterns across the room, there are names written in paint all over the floor in a circular formation. Atop some of these names are what appear to be personal belongings. A guitar on one, a doll on another, and on those who didn't have a personal effect on their name, lay an assortment of flowers.

A shiver travels up my spine.

"What is this place?" I mumble to myself without meaning to.

I glance up at the wall. More words are painted there, around the entire room.

"A memorial." Gareth replies, shaking me from my daze.

We've stopped moving. He is standing at the edge of the circle and, I realize, I am standing in the direct center of it. The candles cast an eerie shadow on the walls around us, which seem to dance and flicker in time with the flames producing them. I suppose I can see this place being a memorial. A creepy memorial, but a memorial nevertheless. I focus my gaze on Gareth and glare at him. For the time being, I'm done talking. If he wants answers or information, he won't be getting it from me. Not easily at least. I can't imagine what else he could possibly want from me, at this point.

"You must be curious." he goes on.

I simply glare back at him.

"Not much for words, huh?" Gareth muses. "Fair enough. Still, you deserve an explanation. This place, like I said, is a memorial. A memorial for the people who died to make us stronger."

I narrow my eyes.

_Stronger?_

I've heard those words before. It was yesterday, just before shit went down in the Terminus courtyard. Alex had said something to the effect of, "When people become a part of us, we get stronger." I remember having thought of that statement as odd. Slowly but surely, the dots are all connecting in my head. The skeletons in the courtyard, capturing people and keeping them in boxcars or train cars, a memorial for the dead, complete with their personal effects. I remember, of course, that they took Glenn and Maggie's personal effects from them - namely Glenn's armor and watch, as well as Maggie's poncho. Then there was the meat on the grill. Come to think of it, I don't recall seeing any animals anywhere in Terminus. Of course, they could have gone hunting for game, but...

"You're cannibals." I gasp silently, more under my breath than aloud, but it seems he still hears me.

"That's one way to look at it." Gareth replies. Its eerie how calm about this topic he is. Meanwhile, at the same time, my stomach begins to churn violently. "I prefer to see us as simply survivors."

"If you plan to eat us," I begin. "Then why didn't you gun us down when you had a chance?"

Gareth chuckles, "I told you when we met. We aren't that kind of people. Shooting you just isn't our style. Besides, we don't have any way to refrigerate the meat. We try to keep our game alive as long as possible."

The more he talks, the more dots I connect. The food they were giving us. It's meant to fatten us up! Just that thought alone makes my stomach more and more sick. Its already sick enough that the dead have risen to devour the living, but now the living have begun to eat the living too? Its just too much to swallow. And the way he describes preserving human "meat"... Like its normal, nothing to bat an eye at. Its revolting. What could possibly cause people to behave like this?

"Why-?" but that's all I can manage.

Stomach bile is rising up my esophagus and I'm forced to relieve myself, vomiting on the concrete at my feet.

"That bad, huh?" he seems amused with my reaction. "The answer to your question is simple, though. We got hungry."

"That doesn't make any sense." I reply weakly, wiping away a string of bile still hanging from the corner of my mouth. "You all seem pretty well armed. Why not just go out and hunt for food like everyone else?"

"That answer is also simple." Gareth says. "Humans are easier game. This place is a safe haven. There's no point in leaving it. Out there, in the outside world, the dead are everywhere. Its bad enough we have to worry about them. But with hunting, its far too time consuming. Finding a hiding place, setting up traps, and, not to mention, animals are quick. Put plainly, we're terrible hunters."

I suddenly remember last night's conversation:

"_What even is this place_?" Tara had said.

"_A trap_."Rick had replied. "_Those signs on the railroad. The broadcasts they were sending out. They're trying to lure survivors here._"

And with that, the final pieces of the puzzle fit together in my head. Terminus is a trap for survivors seeking safe haven from the outside world. Once they are inside Terminus's gates and have lowered their guard, they're captured and imprisoned into rail cars, while being fed foods high in fat in order to groom them to be used as these people's meals. I didn't think it was possible for my stomach to wrench anymore than it already has, but this revelation causes it to lurch yet again, causing me to stagger backwards and bend over in anticipation of another vomit.

"Seems you've figured it out." Gareth continues. "This place is the ultimate ruse. Lured by a false sense of security and safety, people don't run _from_ us. They come _to_ us. We offer them food, shelter, a place to sleep. They never see it coming. This room was made to commemorate those we've made part of us."

"That's sick." I snap.

I don't think I've been this revolted since the first time I saw a walker eat another human.

"Its not sick. Its survival." Gareth retorts venomously. "In the wild, an animal will eat it's young in order to survive. Everyone knows this. After all, if the animal dies, its young die too. But if the animal lives, they can have other young. Quite logical, is it not?"

No.

Its not logical at all.

Not in the way he is twisting it. The way he's saying it, it almost sounds, to me, as though he is justifying his eating of living, breathing, human beings by using animal behavior as an excuse.

"When this began, we, like your group, had kids with us." My eyes widen when he admits this. "After that... everything became easier. Eating strangers was certainly nothing compared to that. Like I told you, we aren't the type that kill senselessly. There just aren't many of us left these days. Living humans. But food is scarce. We have to survive somehow. Its not personal, its just that... when it comes down to it. Its you or me. And I choose me."

With that, Gareth motions towards one of his goons to step forward. I glance around to see what they're up to. The man he motioned too is carrying an all too familiar item with him. My sword. All of a sudden, my insides turn cold, my stomach feeling like an empty pit of ice. I know what this is. The memorial circle. Me at the center. The story about their cannibalistic tendencies and now my sword. They want to kill me. To slaughter me like some common cattle, carve me up, and turn me into dinner for their sick little cult of cannibal survivors. My thoughts drift away from me to Carl. I can only imagine how he's holding up. He's a smart guy. I'm sure he knew that, once I stepped through that door, he'd never see me again. An overwhelming sense of defeat washes over me. There's nothing I can do to prevent execution at this point. I won't get a pretty death. I'll just become another name on the floor of this place. And Carl? Well, I'll have failed him yet again. The sudden urge to cry rises in my chest, but no matter how much I will it, the tears will not form. I close my eyes, reluctantly accepting my fate, and wait...

Again I wait. Just like in the rail car.

A wait of endless agony.

The only twist to this situation is, I know what I'm waiting for:

...For the end to come.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

Everyone is in place.

Abraham is the one we've chosen to jump the enemy when they arrive. The rest of us take our places along the edge of the rail car. The wait is agonizing. I know Tanner is out there and I fear he's suffering. Just the thought of it boils my blood in my veins. Restraint is hard to come by, but I really don't have a choice. If I could simply bust out of here and rescue him, I would've done so immediately, but instead I'm forced to sit here in this dusty, dark, rank train car and wait for our captors to come to us. Even so, I find some comfort in the fact that its not just Dad, Michonne, and I doing this alone anymore. We have numbers on our side. Our conflict with the Governor has hardened us to conflict. We're ready for whatever is about to come. I just hope Tanner is okay when I find him. I will _not_ let him be another Sophia. Not if I have anything to say about it.

My thoughts are interrupted by a faint scuffle outside.

Someone is approaching.

The latch on the lock begins to shake. I see Dad give Abraham a nod, which Abraham promptly returns; no doubt some signal to be ready for what is to come. I prepare myself as well. If things go south, we only get one shot to fight our way out. Failure means death. Not just for me, but for everyone, and certainly for Tanner. And that is a thought I truly cannot bear to wrap my mind around. I feel my pulse pick up as I hear the lock come undone. I clench my fists in preparation. The door slides open and the man steps in, food in one hand, gun in the other.

"Here's your-"

He is abruptly cut off as Abraham lunges, swiftly putting him in a choke hold to silence him, while dragging him backwards into the shadows. Dad races forward, snatching the man's assault weapon from his hand. Abraham's incredibly strong constriction of the man's windpipe prevents him from screaming for help. Even in the dim lighting of the train car, I can see the man's face change color, and within moments he stops struggling; becoming completely limp. Dad wastes no time, retrieving a knife off of the man's belt, he impales him in the head, preventing his reanimation and ensuring his death at the same time. Unfortunately, now we have to wait some more. Until the guard in the courtyard comes to check on his buddy. Dad tosses Abraham the knife and both of them resume their post on either side of the door, hidden just far enough into the shadows to not be obvious.

Seconds pass.

"Albert?" a voice outside rings out.

There is the faint sound of approaching footsteps on the outside concrete.

"Hey, Albert?" the voice says a second time. "Everything okay in there?"

From my vantage point, I can barely make out the figure of another man standing just outside the threshold. He waits for a response, but when none comes, he raises his gun and proceeds up the steps and into the car. Right into our ambush. Abraham strikes before Dad can, landing a direct jab to the man's temple, sending a geyser of blood spurting out of the man's pale head. Dad and Abraham quickly and silently pull the second man's body out of the entry way and strip him of his weapons. He has a similar assault rifle to the first, as well as a pistol on a holster on his belt. Dad tosses the rifle to Glenn and the pistol to Maggie. Counting Abraham's knife, that makes four people who are armed. Not nearly all of us, but enough of us to count.

Dad carefully peaks outside to ensure there are no other potential witnesses, then, quick as a snake, turns back to us.

"Okay," he whispers. "You all know the plan. Those of you without a weapon, climb those fences and follow Daryl into the woods. He'll take you to where I buried our bag of guns. The rest of you come with me."

"Dad," I interject. "I'm going with you."

"Carl, now is _not_ the time." he snaps back at me.

"I'm _going_ with you." I assert, not backing down. "To rescue Tanner."

"Carl, I-"

"Here." Maggie cuts him off, handing me the pistol he had given her. "I'll go with Daryl and the others."

"Maggie..." Dad protests.

"If it were Glenn, I'd want to go too." she insists.

I have to admit. I didn't expect that answer. Maggie has known me for a long while, but she's only known about Tanner and I for a very short amount of time. It makes me wonder if she has been watching us more closely during that time than I originally thought. She presses the handle of the pistol insistently into the palm of my hand.

"Go on, take it."

I glance at Dad once and then back to Maggie. Slowly, I tighten my grip around the handle of the gun and take it from her grasp. It feels good to have a gun in my hands again. With a gun, I have a shot. I can _do_ something. I don't feel so helpless any longer. Maggie smiles softly at me and gives me an understanding nod before stepping back with the others. Michonne suddenly approaches me from the side, resting her hand on my shoulder.

"You sure you'll be alright?" she asks, concerned.

I nod seriously, "Yeah."

She nods back understandingly and pats me on my shoulder, "Go get 'em then."

I stand to my full height and join everyone in gathering just beside the entrance leading out of our prison. The sun is setting, but even still, its light blinds me. It takes my eyes several minutes to fully adjust to the light. Dad and Daryl nod to each other and then we begin to set out.

"Let's go." Dad says.

And we're off...

* * *

**A/N: I had fun with this one. Obviously, I buy into the theory that Terminus is the show's rendition of The Hunters. But only because several of the lines that were used in the Season Finale, namely Rick's "cliffhanger line", was said by him about the Hunters. I hope the chapter was enjoyable! Got some good stuff coming up for you lovely folks in the next couple of chapters, so review, favorite, follow. The whole nine yards.**

**Onto the reviews from these past couple of chapters!**

**Youngblooded: I wouldn't have been able to take that kind of cliffhanger either xD Especially after what Joe's group _almost_ did to him. That entire scene had me biting my nails. Thank God Carl's daddy is a badass xD Though, I wouldn't have minded if Michonne had saved him either. Either way, the Season Finale was amazing. I hope I can build off of it and bring this story into its own, now that Season 4 is done and over with. Thank you for your review :) Hope you continue to enjoy.**

**Obtained: I felt rage too! But mainly because I now have to wait until October again *cries* I miss mah show already hahaha I shall do my best to help you, however :D Thanks for your comments.**

**NOxONE: Your reaction in this comment was almost my EXACT reaction when Rick said "They're screwing with the wrong people," at the end of the episode. Also, "Ricknado". LOVE that term. I laughed hard at that. Terminus doesn't have any idea what the fuck they've gotten themselves into xD That's for sure.**

**Also, even though you're not in the reviews, I want to give a BIG shout out to Vallewida Deaurneax, who PMed me while reading this story and not only gave me a super helpful review and critique of the story, but also helped me develop some amazing ideas for future chapters. I really appreciate that! **

**Thank you all for your comments, reviews, and kind words! **

**Until the next chapter!**

**Later.**


	28. Falling Stars

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

Our group splits in two as we set off on our mission.

Daryl takes Maggie, Bob, Sasha, Tara, Michonne, Eugene, and Rosita over the fences to retrieve Dad's hidden stash of weapons in the woods. Meanwhile, Glenn, Dad, Abraham, and I embark into the belly of the beast after Tanner. The building complex that comprises Terminus is a maze and its hard to recall exactly the route we took coming into the trap. The major flaw with our plan is that we have no idea where they've taken Tanner. In fact, we have no idea where to even begin. To make matters worse, we're on a time crunch. Its only a matter of time before someone discovers we've escaped. The last thing I want is to be locked back in that train car again. We clear the first courtyard without being spotted, pressing ourselves up against the side of one of the many buildings in the Terminus complex.

"Where do we start?" Glenn whispers behind me.

"I think I know." Dad replies cryptically. "Just follow me."

With that, he leads us forward, inching nimbly and quietly along the wall until we come to a corner. Dad stops us by throwing his hand out, signaling for us to flatten ourselves against the building. I do as commanded just in time to see one of the Terminus goons patrolling the top of the adjacent building. From my vantage point, he seems to be the only one, but, nevertheless, we're forced to wait until he has begun to walk back the other direction before we can move again; not wanting to risk drawing attention to ourselves too early by using our new weapons. Once the goon's back is turned, and he is a fair distance down the other side of the rather long roof, my group, lead by Dad, swiftly crosses over until we're behind the adjacent building. Its only then that I realize where Dad is taking us.

Back to that candle room.

Recalling back to the day of our capture, I can remember, vaguely, what the surroundings of that building look like and my current environment fits that description perfectly. Moving quickly, we round a second corner, reaching another courtyard. There, directly on the other side, is the door, labeled "A". The same door we ran out of while trying to escape the Terminus gunmen that day.

"I think that's the one." Dad whispers, confirming my theory. "Everyone stay close. Remember the plan."

I nod at him, as does Abraham and Glenn.

My thoughts immediately travel to Tanner. Thoughts of what Gareth and his henchmen might have done to him cause rage to slowly take root in my chest. My hands clench tighter around the pommel of my handgun. Whatever the case, I can only hope that we've made it in time. And, with that thought in mind, I return my attention to Dad and wait for him to give the signal. Just as Dad is about to urge us forward towards our goal, a shout breaks out that echoes through the courtyard, causing our heads to snap around in the direction it is coming from. Its a man, carrying a shotgun, who is frantically running towards the door Dad was intending to lead us too.

"GARETH!" he screams again.

Suddenly, from across the courtyard, the fated door swings open and the familiar figure of Gareth steps into the threshold, blocking a good view of the room beyond.

"This better be important." Gareth snaps, voice carrying through the open courtyard.

"Its the new captives." the shotgun-wielding man pants, trying to catch his breath and report at the same time. "They're gone."

_Shit._

Someone has already discovered our empty prison of a rail car, its seems. I hope that doesn't mean they've found out where the others are as well. I haven't heard any gunshots, so I'm pretty sure they haven't, but there really is no way of telling at this point. That is, until the man speaks again.

"Gone?" Gareth's tone becomes more and more irritated. "What do you mean '_gone'_?!"

"The door to their boxcar was open." the man replies to him. "We found two of our own dead inside. Both stabbed in the head."

Though I can't hear his choice of words, I can see Gareth curse under his breath.

"Alert the perimeter guards, now!" Gareth barks. "You two!" his head is leaned inside the room now. "Bring him out. We need him after all."

Gareth now steps fully out of the room, into the broad daylight of the evening sun, and I catch a paralyzing sight. Clutched tightly in his right hand, is Tanner's sword. Inside of me, it feels as though my heart has sunk into my stomach. There is no blood on the sword blade, that I can see, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Why does he have Tanner's sword? What were they doing in there? But before I can form another question in my head, I get the answer to the first two. Two armed goons emerge from the doorway of the shrine room and, in between them, is none other than Tanner himself. He's alive, and, from this distance anyways, doesn't appear to be injured. But I can barely make out the expression on his face and it isn't a pleasant one; pale, blank, stoic. I wonder if he'd heard what the messenger man has said about us escaping.

"What do we do?" Abraham whispers to us, startling us from the situation unfolding mere yards away.

Dad is about to answer, but gets cut off as a new conversation begins in the courtyard:

"Do you think they've gotten far?" one of Tanner's captives, a bald African-American man in a plaid shirt, asks.

"Not likely. If they escaped, they have to assume we've got people watching the perimeter. They have to still be around here somewhere." Gareth replies.

"So, what're we going to do about it?" the captor presses.

"You know the standard procedure. We have to keep these people scared shitless. We've never taken a group as large as was in that crate all at once before, but its the same tactic." Gareth says, but then turns to Tanner. "I suppose its a good thing we hadn't dealt with you yet. At least we have a bit of leverage with you around. You'll be a constant reminder of the deep shit they're in."

Anger clenches my heart like a fist. Similarly, my hand continues to tighten around my gun. This scene is deja vu for me. I remember the attack on the prison. The Governor rolling right up to our gates, using Hershel and Michonne as bait for Dad to come down and parlay with he and his army of fellow survivors. That particular incident ended in Hershel's death and the loss of the prison. I won't let that happen this time. I can't. Hershel was the closest thing I had to a grandfather in this post-apocalyptic world. When I saw him die, a part of me died with him. But Tanner was an entirely different story. I love him. Love him in ways I didn't think were possible to love another human being. If the same were to happen to him...

I shudder.

The second captor, a skinny Caucasian woman, with short blond hair, wearing Maggie's poncho, cackles loud enough for us to hear her from our hiding place.

"They're probably all shitting themselves right now anyways." she muses.

Without warning, Dad steps out of our hiding place, strolling calm and casually into the courtyard.

"Not exactly." he declares out loud.

I try to bolt after him, but Glenn catches me before anyone can see us hiding here. Abraham joins him in blocking my path. The anger clenching my heart grows tighter.

"What are you doing?" I whisper, hissing angrily.

"Just stay down, Carl." Glenn snaps back. "Your dad knows what he's doing. Be ready to cover him."

Was I missing something? Why are Glenn and Abraham being so calm about this? I don't remember Dad going over this particular event in the plan he described to us earlier this morning, back on the train car. Even so, I don't argue any longer, simply raising my gun as they do. My gun, however, isn't trained on Gareth, but is instead trained on the closest of Tanner's captives. If they try anything, I'll blow their brains out without a second thought.

"What the hell?!" the African-American man shouts upon seeing Dad.

I can see Tanner's expression clearly now. He's still pale, but his eyes are full and wide. He obviously, like everyone else, wasn't expecting to see Dad so boldly strolling out into enemy territory. The African-American man raises his gun at Dad and suddenly the atmosphere around our hiding place becomes tense. I'm prepared to shoot at a moment's notice and I know they are too.

"Hold up, Greg!" Gareth commands, holding up his hand. "Let's see what he wants."

Dad stops walking about half way through the courtyard, now separated by maybe a yard or less, from Tanner and Gareth.

"I have to hand it to you, Rick." Gareth continues. "Helping your whole group escape like that is pretty impressive. No doubt, you've come here alone to negotiate for the safety of your people. How admirable."

"Release the boy." Dad demands, ignoring Gareth's chiding. "Now."

Gareth chuckles maliciously, "Not likely."

"They're cannibals, Rick!" Tanner suddenly blurts out. The desperation in his voice breaks my heart. I wish I could rush out there and pull him away from all of this, but the opening has not yet presented itself.

"Shut up!" the man named Greg barks at him, raising the butt of his gun in a threatening manner.

I feel cold sweat forming on my palms. If he strikes Tanner, I'm not sure I can restrain my trigger finger any longer. I'm practically shaking with anger at this point.

"Enough, Greg!" Gareth barks. "Let the boy tell him."

"Its true." Tanner stutters weakly. "He told me so himself. They plan to keep us all here in those carts, fatten us up, and eat us when they're hungry."

My stomach churns at that revelation. I knew we were being held captive for a reason, but I never made the connection to cannibalism. Is that what they were planning to do to Tanner before we escaped and distracted them? If so, I was even more relieved that we made it to Tanner when we did. As much as I cannot stand the thought of them harming or killing him, _eating_ him is revolting and brutality on a whole new scale. They were no better than the walkers if this is the kind of activities they engage in.

"So its come to cannibalism for you people, has it?" Dad accuses him venomously.

"Its nothing personal." Gareth retorts. "But a man's gotta eat. I'll give you the same answer I gave this kid, here. In this new world, its me or you. I chose me."

"I understand that." Dad replies. "As it happens, I have made the same call for me, and let me tell you, I've chosen me too. Problem for you is, I have the advantage."

A confused look washes over Tanner's face. Gareth, on the other hand, takes to looking around the courtyard, clearly amused by Dad's declaration. After all, he was surrounded by two of his own people, and this camp is full of other like minded cannibals. The two goons surrounding Tanner tense up, going into high alert. They have their weapons ready and are prepared to fight at a moments notice. Lucky for us, however, they still haven't spotted our hiding spot on the other side of the courtyard.

"How so, Rick?" Gareth arrogantly questions.

"Do you really think I came here alone?"

That's all it takes for Gareth's cool demeanor to collapse, becoming more malevolent and cautious. His goons are now swiveling their guns around the courtyard, checking for signs of Dad's "backup". We keep ourselves as close to the wall, on the side of the building we're hiding behind, as we possibly can to avoid detection.

"You can't see them." Dad continues.

I can't understand why he hasn't already raised his own gun. But, then again, knowing Dad, he has something devious in mind. My dad is not a stupid man. If he hasn't shot yet, there is a reason.

"Is that so?" Gareth speaks up. "Well then, Rick, I'm afraid I'll have to call your bluff. Its a bold move, I'll give you that. Stupid, but bold. But this little game is over now. We're going to kill your friend here, then you, and then we'll take our time with you both. I'm sure you'll both make quite the meal."

"Glenn!" Dad suddenly shouts, his voice echoing out over the courtyard. "Big guy, right ear."

Confusion reigns in my head. However, I don't get a chance to question Dad's order. Because just as I turn to gauge Glenn's reaction, the Asian man pulls the trigger of his gun, and the explosion of a gunshot rings out over Terminus. Its a direct shot, blasting off the man-named-Greg's right ear in a bloody geyser that spews out into the open air, some of its splattering across Tanner's nearby cheek. I'm amazed. I suppose I never really realized how good of a shot Glenn has become, but it makes sense. Like me, he's been hardened by nearly two years facing this hellish world on the road, and, like me, he has also faced the Governor's forces twice in combat.

"Fuck! FUCK!" the thug cries, desperately clutching the bleeding pool where his ear once was.

"You move, it gets shot off. I can promise you that." Dad snarls at them. "Abraham, come get their weapons."

"Gladly." the former sergeant says aloud, revealing himself to everyone as he too steps into the courtyard.

This situation has quickly gone from bleak to hopeful. So much so that I am having to restrain myself from revealing myself as well and rushing to Tanner's aid. Instead, I play it safe, keeping my gun trained on his remaining captor while waiting for Dad's signal. Any slight misstep and I can cost Tanner his life, not to mention Dad and Abraham's.

"Bravo, Rick." Gareth says, a hint of desperation now in his voice. "But there's still more of us and that gunshot has alerted the entire camp, without a doubt."

As if summoned by their leader's last words of defiance, two gunmen appear on a nearby roof, and another three come running out from the nearby alleyways. Visibly, it appears as though Dad and Abraham are completely surrounded. Glenn and I still remain hidden, but if this turns into a gunfight, then things look bleak for Dad, Abraham, and my captive boyfriend. My finger tightens on the trigger. Any second now and this whole thing could blow up.

"You see, Rick?" Gareth goads, confidence returning with his new found numbers. "You should've just stayed in that boxcar. Now I have to kill you all. And after I'm done with you, I'll find the rest of your group and-"

_BANG!_

A fountain of blood erupts from Gareth's hand, sending Tanner's sword, which was clutched in it, clattering to the ground and sliding across the concrete. That gunshot didn't come from Glenn or I. Nor did it come from Dad. My eyes dart over to the source of the noise. The courtyard they're in is open and just over the fences that divide it from the outside world, I can make out several figures hiding in the underbrush. It doesn't take me long to realize who it must be. Gareth had been right when he said Glenn's earlier gunshot would draw other gunmen from Terminus. The adverse of that was that it also warned our people that we may be in trouble. And so, likely armed with the guns Dad buried in the woods, they had come back and ambushed the Terminus survivors surrounding Dad, Abraham, and Tanner.

And in that split second, the tension that has been building shatters.

The Terminus gunmen, some aiming for the woods, others for the survivors in front of them, open fire.

And the gunfight is on...

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Chaos.

That is the only word that can properly describe my setting.

A gunshot from the woods, directly in front of me, and just beyond one of the Terminus border fences, ignites a storm of gunfire from both sides. Survival instincts kick in and I hit the ground, hands still bound behind my back. I barely manage to roll to the right, just as a volley of bullets spews across the concrete beside me, kicking up debris which flies just over me. Gunfire is coming from three different directions all at one. Rick and Abraham are the most obvious, having ducked behind some nearby overturned picnic benches. Gareth's group was firing blindly into the woods, where the shot that had claimed Gareth's hand came from, while another group of them fired towards the picnic tables where Rick and Abraham are taking cover. At the same time, gunfire seems to be coming from the nearby alleyway across the courtyard.

I quickly make up my mind on my destination:

Rick and Abraham's position.

I roll again and again. I see one gunman lift his gun to fire at me, only to be caught in the temple by a shot from behind me. The alleyway as the source, I suspect. Adrenaline pulsating through my veins, I leap to my feet and bolt towards their position, keeping my head down as more gunfire rings out between Terminus and my group. In true Hollywood fashion, once I reach a safe enough distance, I dive behind the nearest picnic table, skidding across the concrete painfully in the process. It draws blood, but a few scrapes on my skin are the least of my worries at the moment.

"Did I ever tell you you're a crazy bastard?!" I yell at Rick over the gunfire.

Its meant as dry humor, a compliment, and a truth at the same time.

I mean, there are few people I know with the balls to do what Rick Grimes just did, given our collective situation. Truth be told, I didn't expect a rescue. I wouldn't have advocated them rescue me either. Once Gareth's man had mentioned they were free, I was relieved that Carl wouldn't be eaten by these psychopaths. The sudden thought of Carl has my mind racing. Where is he? Is he outside the gates with the others or is he trapped somewhere too? Maybe that's who Rick was really looking for and found me instead. I don't have time to think about it anymore, because things are unraveling fast, and this shelter isn't going to hold up to that gunfire much longer.

"Come here, kid!" Abraham barks in true military fashion.

He doesn't wait for me to comply. The muscular sergeant seizes me and flips my over on my stomach. I suddenly feel tugging on the ropes that bind my hands behind my back and suddenly, I'm free to move once again. I push myself up just enough to get a bearing on the situation. Rick pulls himself just barely over the makeshift barricade, firing his weapon twice. Rick Grimes is a marksman of the highest caliber. Having been forged by the world today, he has had no choice but to become acute and precise. His shots aren't wasted. Both hit targets on either side of Gareth. I know this fight can't last much longer. Our side is severely limited on ammunition, despite the group seemingly being better shots than what Terminus is putting out.

Seeming to realize this, Rick ducks behind the table as bullet whiz overhead, striking the wall behind him, and immediately focuses on me.

"Tanner!" he shouts over the noise. "Make a run for the alley over there!" he gestures to where I'd seen gunfire coming moments before. "I'll cover you!"

I don't argue.

I just nod and scoot my ass to the side of our barricade. When he gives me the signal, I'll bolt. Whoever is in that alleyway has to be friendly to us if Rick is sure enough to send me that direction. By this point, more gunmen have joined in the fight on Terminus's side. I know Rick intends to retreat and regroup in case of retaliation, so all that is left is for us to make our get away. Rising up swiftly, Rick begins to unload shots at the enemy.

"GO!" he roars at me.

I don't need to be told twice.

The energy stored in my legs explodes as I burst into action. I sprint across the remaining distance of the courtyard like a well trained Olympic athlete. I feel debris fly up at my feet as shots are fired, but I don't stop, I just keep running. Its not enough though. I've said many times before that running just isn't my thing. Its why I've had to become so good at dispatching walkers. I tend to be clumsy when I run and my stamina, frankly, sucks. Clumsy, however, is the trait that wins out in this route. My toes catch the concrete wrong, sending me stumbling forward. Before I even manage to lose my balance, much less attempt to regain it, a pain unlike any I've ever felt in my seventeen years of existence tears through my being. There is a spray of blood. My hearing starts to ring. I feel gravity take control of my entire frame.

And light turns to darkness...

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

"NO!"

The cry that escapes my throat is nothing short of deafening.

I'd watched Dad leap up, offering Tanner cover as he sprinted towards where Glenn and I lay in wait, providing Dad cover with our own ammunition. However, Tanner's foot had caught a small pothole in the concrete of the courtyard, sending him into the direct line of fire of one of Gareth's men. The singular shot hit him hard, sending him slamming into the ground. I don't wait for there to be a second shot. My psyche snaps in that instant, the monster in my head roaring to life as my gun comes up and I unload on the man who shot him. My first shot hits the man's chest, the second, his head. The amount of blood spilling out of the dead gunman is horrifying, but I don't give it a second thought. And with that, I take off running in Tanner's direction.

"Carl, wait!" I hear Glenn scream behind me.

I don't.

I reach Tanner and seize him with both hands, pulling him as hard as my skinny arms will allow me back towards the safe haven of the alleyway. Glenn is soon by my side, and, with the help of Dad and the others from outside the fence who are covering us, we are able to safely drag him out of the line of fire. I feel tears stinging my eyes, my vision blurring as sorrow, rage, and grief explode inside of me all at once. My attention is completely focused on Tanner. So much so, that I don't even know if Glenn has resumed shooting, or if he's beside me observing as well. Tanner is in bad shape. I can still see his abdomen rising and falling in short, pained, gasps. For the moment that, at the very least, means he's alive. But that can change in moments. There is a fast growing stain of crimson growing across his shirt from the initial point of entry on the side of his abdomen.

"Grab an arm!"

I recognize that voice as Dad's.

Sometime between my rescuing Tanner and now, just a few seconds later, he has safely made it across the courtyard, Abraham in tow. Abraham shoves me aside, snatching up one of Tanner's limp arms, while Dad takes up the other, and both begin quickly moving out of the alleyway.

"Glenn! Carl! Move!" Dad barks.

I can still hear gunfire behind us, but, at this point, it mainly seems to be going to and coming from the woods where the rest of our group is covering us with what remains of their ammunition. We retrace our steps as quickly as we can, coming back to the rail car within moments. Abraham helps Dad load Tanner completely onto his back and then, with the help of Glenn and I as well, is the first to clear the perimeter fence. I am the second one over, furiously climbing and then leaping over, tucking around rolling into the dirt before springing back up to my feet. Glenn makes it over and then Abraham is the final one. Wasting no time, Dad and Abraham again take up one of Tanner's arms each, and we burst into motion, heading in the direction of Daryl and the others. It doesn't take long to reach them. All of them.

"Pull back!" Dad shouts, gesturing towards the woods.

And with that, everyone with a gun unloads several more bullets in the direction of Terminus, and we all take off running into the woods.

####

Our flight through the woods is nothing short of terrifying.

I can remember watching _Jurassic Park_ as a younger child, back before shit hit the fan, and, running like this, I now understand what it would've been like to bust out of the Park running from a Tyrannosaurus. The feeling, I imagine, is the exact same. Glenn is the one who spots the church first. Its in a clearing at the edge of the woods. There doesn't seem to be any walkers around it. In fact, the place looks completely abandoned. Given our dire circumstances, however, I don't think anyone frankly cared if it is inhabited or not. We collectively charge through the double wooden doors of the church, with Rosita and Maggie turning around just as quickly to slam the doors behind us.

For the moment, the run is over and I can address my true fear.

"Tanner!" I shriek, darting over to where Dad and Abraham have him sprawled out on the wooden floor.

"Eugene, get over here!" Abraham barks over his shoulder.

"Is he dead?" Maggie asks, running over to see for herself.

"Not yet." Dad replies, even as he is yanking up Tanner's shirt to see the full extent of the wound. "Carl, help me lift him up. We need to search for an exit wound. Sasha, Bob, and Daryl, you three are on watch!"

In the heat of the moment, I'd already almost forgotten that the Terminus goons could have given chase to us. No doubt, It'd be _bad_ if they did. I didn't know how much ammunition Daryl and his group had gone through, but we didn't have much to begin with, so whatever was left was likely to be scarce. I don't hesitate in rushing to Dad's aid, helping him lift Tanner up just enough to get a look at his back.

"There it is." Dad observes, pointing at a bleeding hole in Tanner's pale skin.

"We need to stop the bleeding," Eugene, Abraham's friend, says approaching us. "He'll bleed out at this rate."

"Do we have anything to use as a bandage?!" I exclaim frantically.

"Just one." Dad replies, furiously freeing himself of his jacket.

In a display of raw strength, Dad tears the long sleeve of his jacket completely off and, with mine and Abraham's assistance, manage to tightly bind it around Tanner's thin torso. Its a quick fix, but the only one we've got, at the moment. Eugene takes the opportunity to bend down over us and look Tanner over. I blink back the tears that have been building since he was shot. I just couldn't believe it. Couldn't process it. I was _there_. He was just inches from me. I was there to save him and he still got shot. And this time, we don't have Hershel to patch him up.

"Well, I have good news and bad news." Eugene finally speaks up, catching my complete attention. "The exit wound means there are no fragments stuck in his body. With that, he at least has a chance of recovery. Even more in his favor, it looks like the gunman who shot him didn't do a very good job at aiming. I can't say for sure, but it doesn't seem like anything major was hit."

"And the bad news?" I recognize this low, calm voice to be Michonne.

"The obvious." Eugene replies. "He's lost a considerable amount of blood, we don't have near the equipment to provide him with transfusions, and even if we did, we don't know his blood type _or_ if anyone here has a match."

"I thought you were a scientist," Glenn chimes in. "Not a doctor."

"I am a scientist." Eugene snaps. "But I know enough about the human body to say this much. The boy has a chance of living. Its going to be a long haul, but, barring there aren't any more surprises, he _could_ make a recovery."

I grit my teeth angrily.

I feel so helpless. Everything is, once again, up to chance. And Tanner doesn't look good at all. Blood is staining his cheeks, likely from the man who was shot directly beside him. His eyes are tightly shut, sweat covers much of his upper body, his hair is disheveled and messy, and his skin is sickly pale. Not knowing what else to do, I slip my hand into his. Its clammy and completely limp. There's no response at all. Nevertheless, I grip it tightly. Anymore, Tanner is the one thing I want to protect. I didn't want to fail him like I failed Sophia, and Mom, and Judith. And yet, in my mind, I already have. I let Gareth take him away from me in the rail car. I let him get shot out there. In the past, he has risked everything to protect me, even when I didn't always want to be protected. And I let him down. Before I can break down into full hysterical crying, I feel a strong grip wrap itself around me.

Michonne.

"Don't worry," she whispers to me, giving my torso a squeeze. "He's tough. He'll pull through."

"But what if he doesn't?" I manage, a hot tear spilling over and down my cheek.

"He will." Michonne replies.

I don't have the fight in me to continue the conversation, so I simply keep holding on to Tanner's limp hand.

"We need to figure out what we're going to do." Sasha speaks up from somewhere behind me. "Those people aren't just going to let us go. They might come looking for us. Its not like we got far away from them."

"She's right." Michonne speaks up, still holding me tightly in her embrace. "We can't afford another Woodbury. We have to strike first."

"If we're going to do something, now's the best time." Daryl chimes in. "Night is falling. We'll have the cover of darkness."

"You're all right." Dad suddenly interjects, standing from his former place at Tanner's side, to his full height to address the group. "We're not safe here. Not while they're at our doorstep."

"So what, are you saying we go back?!" Tara protests.

"We barely got out this time!" Rosita exclaims.

"These people are ruthless killers." Dad argues. "They lead people into a sanctuary, trap them, fatten them up and **eat** them. Women and children included. They were going to do the same to us. To _our_ people, the _children_ in our group. When we found Tanner, they were probably seconds away from carving him up and making him their dinner!"

Dad's sudden, rousing tone, has the entire group watching him, listening, in complete silence. It amazes me that months, almost a full year, after he stopped officially being the leader of our prison group, he could still come out like this and command their respect and attention. In many ways, I have to acknowledge, he's a true leader. There was a point where I didn't think so about him, back when I thought we'd lost everyone at the prison because he wanted to play farmer. But I realize, now, that I was wrong about that.

"We've seen what people like them can do." he continues. "People who have no regard for human life, just like the Governor. I have to tell you, I'm willing to do **anything** to keep that from happening again."

Silence fills the room. Everyone knows what Dad is suggesting, but no one wants to talk about it. Terminus, its people, are a threat. They didn't kill any of us, but they were going to, and Sasha is right. They could very well be hunting us down this very moment. I give another look at Tanner. His breathing is still labored, his chest rising and falling quickly in short jerks, and the expression on his face is contorted in pain. Even in his sleep he can't escape it. I know how he feels. Even after all this time, I can remember the pain I felt after being shot by Otis. It is the worst pain I have ever experienced and it claws at my heart to see my boyfriend suffering through it too, now.

"So, then." Glenn speaks up, finally breaking the silence. "We go?"

I inhale deeply, preparing for what is to come. I'm going too and I know Dad isn't going to like it. But I have to go. I just have to. For Tanner's sake.

"If you're going," I say, voice still quivering. "I am too."

"Carl-" Dad starts, but I'm quick to stop him.

"They may have medicine he needs." I explain, gesturing to Tanner's pained form. "I remember what its like to get shot. He's going to be in a lot of pain. He _needs_ medicine."

"That doesn't mean you have to go." Dad replies firmly.

"It does." I argue. "When we got separated by the herd and I got sick, Tanner went alone to find medicine for me. He could've been hurt, or killed, or worse. I can't do anything for him just sitting here. I _need_ to go."

The expression on Dad's face is anything but pleased. He's used to me arguing with him, especially over issues like this, but I don't think he'll ever come to just accept it. No one else breathes a word. I know where Maggie, at the very least, stands on all of this. She was the one that handed me her gun back in the rail car and told me I was doing what she would've done if it were Glenn. Not that it matters what anyone else thinks. Dad huffs in frustration, turning to look out the window and think.

"If you go," he finally says. "You stay close. No running off. No heroic stuff. Got it?"

His voice is firm and authoritative, but I don't care. He has relented to my request, so I nod in agreement.

"Alright, we need some people to stay here and keep watch." Dad continues.

"I'll stay." Maggie speaks up. "I'm not my dad, but I learned a lot from him. I helped treat Carl when you brought him to the farm, so I can help Eugene keep Tanner well."

"I'll stay too." Tara says. "I'm no good when it comes to shooting anyways."

"Anyone else?" Dad says.

"As you already know," Abraham interjects. "Rosita and I are on a mission to get Eugene to Washington. Secondary to that is making sure he's safe and remains alive. If he's staying here, we stay here. We'll protect the place while you're gone."

Dad nods to this logic, "Alright then. Carl, Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, Bob, Sasha, and I will head back and do what needs to be done."

With that, Dad sets about splitting up the weapons along with the remaining ammunition between the two groups. During this time, Michonne releases me from her embrace and stands up with me so that we can join Dad. Outside, night is setting, darkness consuming the sky as the moon begins to peak over the horizon. As everyone gears up to leave, Dad pulls me aside, into a small adjacent room of the church. Something seems to be on his mind and whatever it is, its serious.

"Carl, we haven't had a lot of time to talk these past few weeks. With everything going on, we've barely had any time to ourselves." he says. "But I have to know. Are you going with us to help Tanner or are you going for revenge?"

My gaze hardens.

I think back to a few days ago, to the conversation Michonne, Tanner, and I had in the woods, just before entering Terminus. There I admitted to them I felt like a monster, both for the things I've done in the past, and the things I think about even now. I can't lie and say that part of me doesn't want to go for solely revenge. After all, those sick cannibals were trying to carve Tanner up and eat him, and were going to do the same to the rest of us. To make matters more infuriating, they'd shot him, which puts his life in jeopardy. The monster in my head wants to make them pay; wants them to suffer for what they've done. And it wants me to take part in delivering them that suffering. Truth be told, the old me would've done it without a second thought. But now, there is something else in there, fighting back the monster. A small ray of light that has been brightening more and more over the past month. This ray of sunlight has done what I never thought _could _be done. It has pierced the darkness surrounding my heart, holding the monster at bay. And it is from this that I can give Dad my answer.

"I want to help Tanner." I reply firmly. "I don't think I can handle losing anyone else. Especially him..."

"Yeah," Dad says, gaze softening somewhat. "You two have become pretty close, huh?"

"I love him." The words hit my tongue instinctively. That's how I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my love for him is true. I don't even have to think about it anymore. I just _know_.

"I know." Dad seems distant. Sometimes, even though I know he's accepted us, I think he still has trouble getting used to me saying that. "I know you do, son. I just want to make sure you know this isn't for revenge. I tried hard to keep you from these things, but I see now that isn't possible. You're growing up and, more and more, you're going to have to start doing these things too. You've seen it. You saw it the other night. I've done things... _bad_ things... to keep you and our people safe."

I remember the bandits on the roadside.

Even though my head had been pressed hard into the earth and leaves, I had seen Dad take a bite out of that man's throat and spit it out. And I'd watched him mutilate the man who had tried to molest me.

"But, Carl?" he continues. "You need to never forget, when we do those things, even though we're good people, they're still **bad** things. Never lose sight of that. When these things start getting easy, that's when its over. That's when we go from good to bad people."

I open my mouth to say something, but words won't come out. He's right of course, but that has me questioning myself once again. What am I? That boy who was with the Governor seemingly an eternity ago. It hadn't been hard to kill him. I felt I _had_ to kill him for the sake of the group, but hesitation wasn't in my mind when I did it. When Dad had mutilated that man by the road, I made myself watch him. So, did that mean I was becoming a bad person? Dad snaps me from my self-conflict by patting me on the shoulder.

"C'mon. We should get going." he says.

We move back into the main room where everybody seems to be prepared to leave. My eyes instinctively travel to Tanner, who is still laying down on the bare floor. His facial expression seems to be more peaceful, but I know if he wakes up, he'll be in immense pain unless I find something to ease that. Maggie is sitting cross-legged beside him and looks up in time to catch me staring. She gives me a reassuring smile and then returns her attention to tending to his makeshift bandage. Michonne approaches from off to the side, drawing my attention away from Tanner.

"You two ready to go?" she asks, handing us both a handgun from our stash.

"Yeah," I reply.

Dad nods his head, "Then let's get a move on. We need to end this. Tonight."

My group, comprised of Dad, Glenn, Michonne, Sasha, Bob, and Daryl, make our way out the front of the church into the chill of the night air. I'm the last one to reach the threshold, taking one last look back at Tanner before pushing myself into the blackness of the night. I shut the door lightly behind me and join the others in the clearing surrounding the church yard. The night is eerily quiet. Not even the familiar chirp of crickets can be heard. Once Dad has confirmed everyone is present and accounted for, we begin our trek into the woods, back in the direction of Terminus.

The walk back to Terminus is quick but quiet.

We quickly reach the perimeter fences where Dad halts us to scout the surroundings. In the moonlight, I can make out what must be several gunmen spread across the various roofs of Terminus's complex. It seems Gareth and his goons are taking no chance tonight. Still, we have darkness on our side, and, hopefully, the element of surprise. Observing the camp closely from behind the trees, I also take notice of several men patrolling along the length of the far fences. There's no doubt Terminus has stepped up its game.

"What do we do?" Sasha speaks in a hushed tone. "There's too many of them."

"Makes me wish we had the grenades and other weapons we had stashed at the prison." Daryl comments to no one in particular.

"We don't have that luxury." Dad replies. "We go with the same tactic as before. Guerrilla warfare. We'll take out those perimeter guards quickly and quietly. After that, we spread out, find a place to use for shelter and attack them from the shadows. We can't afford to waste ammo; what little we have. Daryl and Carl can take the guys on the rooftops. After that, gun down anyone that moves."

We all agree silently and quickly set about putting Dad's plan into action.

####

((**Maggie's P.o.V.**))

The church is quiet.

My new companions, Tara, Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene haven't breathed a word since Glenn and the others left to deal with the remains of Terminus. The boy, Tanner, is clearly in a great deal of pain. Shortly after the others left, he began grumbling and groaning in his sleep. In a way, I was glad Carl wasn't here to see this. I've been watching them ever since the train car and, even before Carl had called Tanner his 'boyfriend', I'd known something was up. They stuck to each other's sides like glue, were constantly chatting with each other, as well as offering each other support and comfort. In many ways, it reminded me of myself and Glenn. Perhaps more surprising than learning that Carl was gay was the fact that Rick seemed to be so okay with it. Clearly I did not give Rick the benefit of the doubt when it came to such matters, but I suppose its his son, and if he's okay with it then that's that. I have to admit, it was rather sweet to see them clinging to each other like Glenn and I did when we first fell in love.

I'm drawn from my thoughts as the boy's eyes flutter open.

Immediately he grimaces as he consciously feels the pain of his injury for the first time. His breath becomes more labored and I immediately move to calm him before he begins to hyperventilate and really cause complications for himself.

"C-C...- Carl!" he stutters through his pain. "W-where's Carl?!"

I gently place a hand against his chest as he tries to jolt upward, to prevent him from further injuring himself.

"Relax." I try to soothe him. "He's fine. He's with Rick and Michonne right now."

"W-where-?" But that's all he can manage, the pain finally taking over again, and he winces as it passes.

"To get you medicine," I lie, but only partially. "Now lie back down before you hurt yourself even more."

He reluctantly complies. His breaths are coming now in raspy gasps, not all that unlike the ones Carl emitted when he was shot by Otis nearly two years ago on our farm. I purposely choose not to tell him about the return trip to Terminus. It will only agitate him and, if he's anything like Carl, will make him more prone to injuring himself trying to go after the others. One of his eyes slightly opens and he's looking at me. He seems to study me for a moment before gulping back his pain to speak to me once again.

"Y-You're Maggie, aren't you?" he says finally.

I smile at him, "Yes. I'm Maggie. Maggie Greene."

"H-he wanted me to help him find you. You a-and Glenn... Daryl." Tanner continues weakly. "Saw y-your signs on the r-rails."

That's all he can manage before another wave of pain consumes him. Its such a sweet gesture, I realize, that he feels the need to tell me this. That all along, he was just trying to help Carl reconnect with us. When I'd created those signs out of walker blood back on the railroads, I had only intended Glenn to see them. I didn't consider that others from the prison would find them and start down our trail, but in a way, I'm glad I did. If Rick hadn't been captured and found us in Terminus, I really don't know how we would've made it out. I gently brush a clump of his hair out of his eyes.

"Well," I reply. "You did it. You found us."

He gives a pained chuckle at this.

He really is tough for a kid. Just like Carl. Carl was only twelve years old when Otis shot him on accident. His recovery was nothing short of a miracle and, through all the pain he experienced, he was still able to keep his personality intact. In that way, I can see how Carl could be drawn to him. Their strong personalities must connect well together. Watching him closely, I can tell he's struggling to keep himself conscious. Though I don't know the exact reasons, given what I do know about him so far, it would seem to me that he is doing so in order to be awake when Carl returns. I know it'll be better for him to get his rest, so I lightly rub the arm closest to him soothingly, drawing his attention back to me.

"You need to get your rest." I tell him. "He'll be back soon, I promise."

Tanner studies me for a moment and then nods weakly.

His head falls backwards, eyes screwing tightly shut, and after several moments, his labored breathing returns to some semblance of normality. As the boy quickly returns to sleep, I become aware of others watching me. Namely Tara, the young woman who was with Glenn when Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene led me to him.

"Do you really think they'll make it back?" she asks me in a hushed tone.

"Of course I do. Glenn and the others will make it back." I reply, convinced of this. "They always have."

They always have and they always will.

They just have to...

* * *

**A/N: Well, seems our group is in quite a bind. Certainly poor Tanner. In case anyone is wondering, yes, I am adapting scenes here and there from the comics. Namely the fact that Rick does go back to finish off the Hunters. The church is a nod towards Gabriel in the comics, but I haven't decided yet whether he'll appear or not. And for those wondering about Judith, Carol, and Tyreese - no spoilers - but you'll see them soon :D Anyways, this chapter was a challenge to write just because I had to make a lot of tough calls on how to make this tense situation even more so, so, that being said, I hope it was still enjoyable. We've been getting quite a bit of action, with the situations we've been in with Terminus, but I expect in a chapter or so, we'll get back to some of the more romantic scenes again. Carl, in particular, has a big moment coming up, so stayed tuned to see how that develops!**

**I have two reviews to respond to this time:**

**THE WALKING sexy AMC: Thank you so, so, so very much! :D I am very honored you think so highly of this story. I promise Tanner will get close to some of the other characters now that there are some new faces in the story. I haven't decided exactly who yet, save for two people: Tara (I _really_ like her and hope we see more of her next season) and Judith when she finally appears. I'll explore his possible friendships with some of the others, maybe Glenn and Maggie, but we'll just have to see ^.^**

**Makino-chan16: Thank you! :) I'm glad you enjoy and I hope you continue to enjoy.**

**Thanks you guys :) Remember to review and make comments. Suggestions are always welcome and if you'd rather PM them to me, I'm all too happy to hear your thoughts. **

**Until the next one! **

**Later.**


	29. You're Good!

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

The fighting seemed endless.

Weariness has seeped its way into my bones and my body is practically screaming for some relief, sleep, anything to regain some much needed rest. Its around midnight. We've won by now. I'm keeping watch outside with Glenn and Michonne, while Dad and Daryl gather supplies throughout the other buildings. Sasha and Bob have already headed back to the church to let everyone there know that we're all alright. I've already gotten what I came back for. I'm clutching tightly to a small knapsack of whatever medical supplies we could find, including pain pills and wrappings, and I've found Tanner's missing sword; picked off of one of the thugs that had taken it from him. Michonne approaches me silently and kneels down in front of me, so that her face is within my line of sight.

"You alright?" she questions worriedly.

I nod, weakly wiping some dried blood off of my cheek, "I'm fine."

Its a lie.

I don't feel fine at all.

For one, I'm intensely worried about Tanner. We've been gone for several hours and I have no idea how much his condition has improved or deteriorated. I can only hope that he has either improved or remained the same. Anything is better than him slipping away on me. Secondly, I'm still getting over what has just happened. What Dad had done.

What we _all_ had done...

####

((**Carl's P.o.V - Flashback**))

_Gareth is on his knees before us._

_Our group took Terminus much easier than I thought we would. After Daryl took care of the guards around the fences with his knife, we had infiltrated the cannibal compound the same way we entered the first time; right over the tops of the fences. The darkness ended up being our greatest advantage. We managed to hide in the infinite black of the shadows cast by the buildings of the Terminus compound. When the gunshots began ringing out, they scattered. Even the rooftop snipers weren't able to pinpoint us in the confusion and blackness of the night. One-by-one, each of them went down, until there were no more on the roof to rain down fire on us. From there, our job was simple. The ground fighters were in complete disarray. The ones who actually managed to see us in our hiding places were gunned down the quickest and those unfortunate souls that didn't were shooting blindly anyways, so their fate was sealed the moment they set foot into the courtyards._

_But Gareth was a different story._

_Dad had insisted we leave him for last. And so here we were. Capturing him had been easy as well. Watching as his people dropped like flies around him, Gareth's inner coward finally reared its head and, upon surrounding him near the entrance of the camp, he completely surrendered to us. Tears stain the young man's cheeks. He's been blubbering like this for a good few minutes, but it doesn't seem to be making Dad flinch in the slightest. _

_"I already told you, we won't come after you! Just leave! You have my word!" he continues to sob. "I'm begging you. Just let us be!"_

_"Well, that's a slightly different story you were telling us the other day when you had a kid held at gunpoint and were threatening to kill the rest of us!" Dad retorts, anger building in his voice. "As I recall, you made it pretty clear that you were going to kill and eat every one of us. It was you or us, remember that?"_

_"Please?!" Gareth blubbers further._

_Its a pathetic sight to see. _

_Dad was right. Not even a day ago, this guy was probably the cockiest asshole I'd seen since the Governor. Now that he's beaten he just expects us to leave him alone and go our separate ways like nothing happened? Like they hadn't locked us in a train car to store until they needed a good meal? That they hadn't kidnapped and tried to kill **and** eat **my** boyfriend? I secretly pray that Dad doesn't buy into it. I certainly can't forget something like that. No way. As if hearing my prayer, Dad answers. And none too kindly, either._

_"Yeah, I'm thinking that's not gonna happen." he spits. "But, look on the bright side. We're probably not going eat you like you were going to eat us."_

_"What do we do with 'im?" its Daryl._

_The others have remained completely quiet while Dad deals with Gareth. But, judging by Daryl's words, they're just as eager to take care of him as I am. As Dad seems to be. Surprisingly, Dad turns to me, his look suddenly becoming more fatherly._

_"You may not want to be here for this." he advises me._

_"I can handle it." I retort._

_Sooner or later, Dad is going to have to accept the fact that I need to be here for these things. I can't always go running off and hide. Regardless, he doesn't seem to want to argue with me tonight. Nodding reluctantly, he turns back to where Michonne and Daryl are flanking him. _

_"Put him on the picnic table." Dad commands. _

_I watch with intrigue as Daryl and Michonne seize Gareth by either arm and drag him across the courtyard, slamming him down hard on top of one of the wooden picnic tables that adorn the entry courtyard. _

_"Now," Dad speaks up, almost snarling. "Hold him down."_

_What happened next... well... you can imagine. It seems that the brutality Dad showed several days ago, on the road when those bandits attacked us, hasn't completely left him. I won't bother to go into the bloody details of the entire event. Suffice it to say that Gareth went painfully, no doubt exactly like he made many of his victims before us. By the time it was over, the table he was laying on was completely soaked in blood and other bodily matter. Afterwards, Glenn, Daryl, Michonne, Sasha, not even Bob. No one said anything. In their minds, I think they found the event horrific, but necessary. To me it was pretty much the same. Only... There is this nagging feeling in my gut. I can't stop thinking about what Dad had told me earlier, before we left the church. About how when these things became easy, we became monsters. And, while I had no part in Gareth's death, the numbness I felt while watching it suddenly concerned me. I'd never admit it to Dad, but... maybe when Tanner-_

_And then there is that._

_Tanner._

_Instinctively, I remember that I can talk to him about it. About anything. _

_But he's..._

_Oh, Tanner... Please live..._

_Just... Please..._

((**Carl's P.o.V. - Present**))

The sound of footsteps on the concrete snaps me from the memories still fresh on my mind.

I advert my gaze to see who is approaching, only to discover that Dad and Daryl have finally returned. Daryl is once again in possession of his crossbow and it looks as though Dad is carrying several handguns, as well as Michonne's katana. Seems they found where Gareth and his men were holding our weapons as they scouted the compound. After handing off weapons to both Michonne and Glenn, Dad turns his attention to me, returning the pistol Gareth had taken from me several days prior. I take the handle of the weapon and promptly stuff it back into the empty holster attached to my leg. The gun I've been using since then is still tightly clutched in my right hand.

"Everything alright out here?" Dad asks, his voice low, so as not to draw any attention from outside walkers.

"Nothing to report." I reply, shaking my head.

"We should be heading back then." he continues. "Get that medicine back to Tanner and check on the others."

I'm not about to argue that one.

Even in just the short few minutes since my memories abated, anxiety was continuing to rise in my chest and so I was all too happy to be getting back towards the church. We took one last short look around at the ghost town we've created and then begin to take off towards the direction of the woods in which we came. Upon getting outside of Terminus, we pick up our pace and end up reaching the church fairly quickly. A faint glow from one of the front windows catches my attention. It wasn't bright enough to be electricity and I don't remember us turning on any torches before leaving. Dad notices this too and carefully leads us up to the front porch, gently, easily, and quietly pushing the door open. To our collective relief, mine in particular, its just candles that the group must've found while we were away. Abraham, Eugene, and Rosita are all standing nearby the door, weapons still in hand. They must've seen us approaching, because none of them seem alarmed.

"Everything alright here?" Dad asks upon greeting Abraham.

"Its been pretty dull." the soldier replies. "How about on your end?"

"We did what we had to do." Dad's answer is cryptic, but, at the same time, he doesn't sound entirely confident.

I've seen Dad go through hell and back since he became leader of the Atlanta group so long ago and so I know what it is that's bothering him. No matter how necessary, the ending of so many lives is weighing on him. He's just too stubborn to admit it to anyone.

"_Did_ you have to do it?" this voice belongs to a newcomer, Tara, who steps out of the shadows of the corner of the church.

"They never would've let us go." Dad replies honestly. "They didn't give us a choice. It was either we kill them, or they kill and eat us. We don't have to _like_what we did. But we _did_ have to do it. That much I'm sure of."

Before anymore can be said about the matter, Maggie, too, emerges from the back of the church and rushes to greet Glenn. She is visibly relieved to see him alright and that prompts a reaction in me. Without waiting to speak with anyone, not even so much as a "hi", I dart off towards where I'd left my injured boyfriend. And then I panic. He is _not_ where I left him. In fact, scanning the room in a panic, I don't see him anywhere! Just as I'm about to launch into a tirade demanding to know where he is, Maggie cuts me off:

"He's fine, Carl." she says knowingly. "We moved him to one of the pews so he'd be more comfortable."

Once again, I take off without waiting for any further instruction. Sure enough, towards the back of the ill-lit church sanctuary, I find a still-sleeping Tanner sprawled out on one of the cushioned church benches. Dropping my bags with haste, I rush to his side, where I collapse to my knees next to him. His face seems to be more peaceful than it was when I left, and I'm greatly relieved to see his chest rising and falling gently. Seeing him like this jolts a response from deep inside my chest. As if the stress of the night is finally boiling over, mixing with the intense anxiety I've felt. I do my best to blink back tears, reaching out to him to take his hand. His hand is cold to the touch. Not cold like a walkers, but definitely frigid. I do my best to warm him, squeezing his hand tightly. If I have it my way, I won't let him go until he wakes up and can talk to me again. But before my thoughts go any further, Maggie is by my side. I'd been so zoned in on Tanner's condition, I hadn't noticed her approach me.

"He was asking for you." she says simply.

My heads snaps up, which forces some of the tears from their ducts, tracing two pathways down my cheeks, "He was awake?" I croak miserably.

She nods softly, "The first person he asked for was you."

The urge to cry is becoming near irresistible at this point.

He was awake and I wasn't here to be with him. I'm suddenly ashamed I ever went with Dad. I should have stayed. I should've been here to see him when he woke up. And now... What if he dies? I will have missed that final opportunity. I'll have failed him for the last time. Just like I've always done. In the end, it just seems to be my curse, always letting everyone down when they need me the most. Maggie places one of her delicate hands on my shoulder, softly enough to draw me out of my self-loathing, and allowing me to redirect my attention back to her for the moment.

"We'll get him some of this medicine. Change his bandage." she informs me. "After that, it'll be awhile, but he'll come around. Just like you did."

She's referring to the time I got shot.

Well, there is a difference to me. Back then, at the farm, it was me on that bed. This time, its someone I love and all I can do is just sit here and watch and wait. Is this how Dad and Mom and Shane felt when I was out-cold all that time? All this pain and uncertainty. How did they manage to be strong through all of that? I was barely holding on as it is now. Dad approaches, only this time, I see him coming. He regards Maggie with a nod, then his gaze shifts to Tanner, and finally back to me.

"How is he?" he asks simply.

"Stable." Maggie replies. "Its going to take time."

Dad nods, "Well, in that case, you should get some rest. Both of you." he says. "Its been a long night."

That is the understatement of the century.

"I'm staying here." I declare. "I'm not leaving him again."

Both Dad and Maggie regard me with concern. Its not going to work though. I left once tonight, by my own will no less, but I wasn't going to be leaving anymore. From this moment forward, I'd be here if Tanner needed me. There was no way I was leaving. Finally, Dad's gaze softens and he nods understandingly. And seeing him relent, Maggie does too, standing back to her full height; but not before giving me another soft pat on the shoulder. He waits until she has said her good nights and left us alone before talking to me again.

"Hey," he says to draw my attention back to him. "If you need anything during the night, don't hesitate to come get me."

I simply nod.

I'm touched by his concern. I really am. I'm just far too exhausted and emotionally drained to carry on conversation any longer. He starts to leave me, pausing just as he reaches the last row of benches.

"Carl?"

I perk up and look at him.

"I love you."

I haven't heard those words come out of my Dad's mouth in a very, very long time. So long, I can't even properly put my finger on the last time I remember him saying it to me. Since at least Hershel's farm, back when Mom was still alive. Why he's choosing to say it now, I'm not sure. Maybe as a way to comfort me after all that's happened. Perhaps something finally caused him to deem it necessary to say it. Whatever the reason, though, didn't matter. He said it. That is what truly matters. He doesn't give me time to reply, though, walking back towards where the others are gathered near the entrance of the church. Finally, for the first time in days, Tanner and I are completely alone. Only this time, he's not in any condition to joke with me, or talk about the day's events until one of us, or both of us, fall asleep. No. Tonight, its just me watching over him.

Waiting.

Praying.

But somewhere through it all, sleep manages to find me...

####

_I jolt awake._

_Not much time must've passed since I fell asleep. Its still dark outside. The others must've left the candles lit, because there is still a faint flicker of light coming from the front room. Standing to my feet, I quickly survey the area. Even in the faint glow of the candlelight, I can immediately detect something wrong with this whole picture._

_Nobody is here. _

_Dad and the others seem to have completely vanished. There's not even any sign of any of our belongings laying around. Did they all just pack up and leave? I find that incredibly hard to believe. Still dazed and somewhat confused, I glance down to check on Tanner. Suddenly, I'm snapped wide awake. He's not where I left him when I fell asleep. In fact, he's not on the pew at all. What **is** there, on the other hand, is a faint blood stain. Panic consumes me. Did we miss someone back in Terminus? Had they come for revenge? What could have happened to everyone else?_

_A scuffling noise catches my attention from a shadowed corner of the room._

_"Tanner?" I call out._

_No response._

_"Dad? ...Michonne? ...Maggie, Glenn?!" _

_No matter whose name I try, there is no response. _

_My heart is thudding in my chest. What the hell is going on?! _

_Another noise from the corner draws my curiosity. As my senses adapt, I can now clearly hear a noise that I can only describe as "sloshing". Whatever it is, its unsettling, causing my stomach to twist. I reach for my gun, which is holstered right where I left it, and slowly advance down the center isle until I've reached the main room. Still no sign of anyone. But there **is** more blood. This time, however, there is a discernible trail to follow. Something, or someone, has been dragged through this blood, it seems. I feel my breathing become more labored as anxiety mounts. I trace the blood stain to a door leading to an adjacent room. With no other option but to investigate, I cautiously advance, pushing the door open even as I point my gun into the blackness; prepared for whatever may jump out. The moonlight illuminates the room. _

_And I get a look at the horror that is inside._

_Corpses._

_Everyone's corpses. _

_I can see them all now. _

_Dad, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie... everyone!_

_An intense mixture of fear and anguish seizes my chest. I can't move. My thoughts won't even form correctly. There's blood everywhere. My stomach heaves and I empty what little contents are within it onto the floor in front of me. Tears sting at the back of my eyes at the same time. Just how in the world could I have lost them all like this? Without even having noticed? Then I realize something even more horrifying. My head snaps up to survey the carnage again. Just as I thought..._

_Tanner isn't among the dead._

_No sooner have I finished thinking that thought, than a noise, same as the two before, rings out in the tiny room. I squint my eyes to bring the source into view. In the corner of the room, kneeling over what remains of Dad, is a shadowy figure. A walker? Could a walker have caused all this? Maybe it snuck up on them in their sleep and none of them even saw it coming! Angrily, I bring my gun up to blow its filthy undead brains out. And that is when the beam of moonlight, still shining through a nearby window, intensifies, catching the shadowy creature up in its light. And I get a good look at it._

_At him._

_Tanner. _

_Or... what once was Tanner._

_I suddenly feel all of my strength sucked away from me in a single instant. My gun drops out of my hand, slamming against the wooden floor. The noise causes Tanner's corpse to lose focus on its gruesome meal, now turning its soulless eyes on me. I feel a gasp, a croak, rise up in my throat. I start sobbing before the tears even hit the tear ducts. My body is racked with such intense grief and uncontrollable sorrow all at once, that its all I can do just to keep standing. My hand immediately flies out to catch the door frame, keeping me upright, albeit barely. Now the tears come, mixing with snot, dried blood, and sweat as they cascade freely down my cheeks and drip like a summer rainstorm onto the wooden floor beneath me. I hear the familiar snarl of a walker as Tanner's corpse rises to its feet and begins to gait clumsily towards me. Nevertheless, I don't stop the voice-cracking sob that escapes my throat. In fact, I don't even attempt to pick my gun back up._

_I already know I can't do it._

_Anyone in this room would be hard to shoot, even if they were walkers._

_Some would be harder than others._

_But Tanner?_

_I couldn't even think about such a thing. Finally, my legs give out, and I drop to my knees. The Tanner walker closes in on me. I can smell its decaying breath, see its feet only mere feet away from me. The hairs on my neck, which stand up in alarm, tell me that the creature is bending down to continue its meal with me. But I don't even try to move. To dodge. To nothing. I just want to die. To finally have peace and die. And if Tanner is the one to do that for me? _

_Well, even this way, I guess I'm okay with that..._

####

Someone violently shaking me disturbs my nightmare and frees me.

I jolt upright and immediately become aware of just how drenched in sweat I am. Every article of clothing on me is sticking to me like glue. I can feel the sudden gust of night air cool my super-heated body and I immediately turn to see who it was that woke me. Sitting just a few feet from me, arms folded, eyes regarding me with worry and fear, is Michonne. Registering she is alive, my eyes immediately dart to the pew I was sleeping beside. Low and behold, Tanner is laying right where I left him, still snoozing rather peacefully on the cushioned church bench. Relief sweeps over me like a cool breeze and I am quick to cup my face in my hands, releasing a tremendous sigh as I do.

"Nightmare?" Michonne asks the obvious.

All I can offer her is a nod.

Ever perceptive, as always, Michonne continues. "You know, I use to dream about Mike too. After the refugee camp. All those months alone on the road. I always would dream he turned into a walker." she explains.

Suddenly intrigued, I lift my head to look at her, hoping she'll elaborate further.

And she does.

"The difference between you and I, though." she goes on. "Is that when I woke up, the nightmare wasn't over. He was a walker. I let him turn into one. And his walker was with me. Every single day." Now she turns to look at me directly in the eyes. "You? You still have him. He's still alive. He's no walker. And, to tell you the truth, I don't think he'll ever be one."

I'm speechless.

Her perceptiveness knows no bounds. Truly.

"How did you-?"

"You moan in your sleep." she is quick to inform me, offering me a comforting smile. "Particularly when you're having a nightmare."

I manage a chuckle at that, but only a brief one, and only out of sheer relief.

Its momentary, however, because the second it ends, my stomach heaves, and this time I vomit for real. Its not much, given the low content of my stomach, but just about everything comes out. Michonne quickly pulls out a half-empty bottle of water sitting next to her, unscrews the cap, and hands it to me. I don't refuse or question her, simply taking the bottle and gulping down as much of the liquid as I possibly can. Throwing up can easily make one dehydrated, especially if there wasn't much in the stomach to begin with. At least, that's what Mom always use to tell me. I think Michonne was thinking along the same lines.

"Thanks." I manage after a few moments.

She nods understandingly, "Take your time. Don't overdo it."

"Are the others...?" I'm quick to ask.

"Fine." she cuts me off again. "They're all fine."

I nod, again relieved.

If it was just a nightmare, than I can handle that.

"How about you?" she manages after a few more moments of silence.

"I'm better." I admit. "Now that I know he's okay."

"You seem to be holding something back." she informs me. "Ever since Terminus, earlier tonight, something has really been bothering you. Care to let me in?"

So, apparently, there is a limit to her perceptiveness. I haven't just been like this tonight. Tanner had picked up on my distress yesterday, in the boxcar. He had done his best, then, to cheer me up. I had only pushed him away, something I now hate myself for. If anything was to happen to him now, I'd never forgive myself for being that way towards him.

"Its nothing," I lie. "I just really want to talk to him."

She seems to get that hint loud and clear.

Its not that I don't want to let her in. I'm sure she knows that. She tells me her secrets, I tell her mine. But Tanner had told me that, once we made it out of Terminus, he'd want to talk about what's bothering me, so I want to make sure he's the one that hears it. Not Michonne. She offers me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and carefully stands up.

"Well, get some sleep." she says. "He's going to need you tomorrow. You won't be able to help if you haven't gotten some sleep."

And I can't argue with that logic.

Michonne leaves to rejoin the others, who are, by this point in the night, probably all sleeping. I resume my post next to Tanner and gently lay my hand over the top of his. I spend the next few minutes in silence, listening to his breathing, the steady pulse of his heartbeat and finally release a pent up sigh. Then, bowing my head so that it lightly rests against his shoulder, I shut my eyes and welcome sleep's embrace once again.

####

I wondered how long it would take before Tanner would be in any condition to talk again.

The answer?

Two and a half days.

That's how much time has passed. Its afternoon. Dad, Daryl, and Glenn have gone out to hunt for some food for all of us. Dad had declared that we would use the church as a base of operations while Tanner recovers. We'd decide on our next move once he was healthy enough to move again. Tanner himself has been in and out of consciousness over the past couple of days, but never enough to speak to any of us. I was just finishing changing his bandage for that day when his eyes finally flutter open, first wincing in the harsh light of day, before finally opening in full. His eyes fall on mine first and I cannot contain the smile that comes to my face.

"Hey there..." he manages weakly, offering his best smile, which, itself is weak.

Instinctively, I grab his hand, which, for the first time in days, he's able to squeeze slightly back.

"Well, well, well..." its Michonne's voice.

When or how she came to be behind me, I don't know, and frankly, don't care. I'm too caught up in the relief and happiness of the moment. Tanner's eyes flicker upwards to see the source of the voice he'd just heard. A small grin creeps across his face upon seeing that its Michonne.

"How's it feeling, solider?" Michonne asks with a smile.

"Hurts like a bitch." Tanner gasps, managing a weak chuckle.

"I'll go get Maggie to give you some more of those pain pills." Michonne announces. "Let you two have a moment alone in the meantime."

True to her word, Michonne spins on her heel and promptly leaves us to ourselves. I return my attention to him, lightly brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. His hair has gotten quite a bit longer in the past month. When I met him, it was just barely hanging over his forehead. Now, however, it nearly covers his eyes and completely covers his ears. Not that I'm complaining. I like it the way it is. He smiles at me, having noticed me staring at him.

"So," he manages. "What'd I miss?"

"Well," I think back over the past couple of days. I consider telling him about Terminus and that's when I'm reminded of the fact that I still need to talk to him. My happy demeanor suddenly collapses and, though still clearly coming out of his daze, Tanner's hardens and becomes more serious.

"Carl, what's wrong?"

It amazes me.

Even though he's been shot and is in _way_ worse condition than I am, having just been able to speak coherently for the first time in days, he still is more concerned about me than he is about himself. That revelation brings the tears flooding back to my eyes. I thought I could be strong for this, but it turns out, I'm just a big baby on the inside. No matter how tough I try to be on the surface.

"Carl?" his concern is now palpable in his voice.

"Tanner," I say weakly. "Do you think I'm evil?"

There.

I said it.

What's been on my mind for days now. What I've been meaning to talk to him about this whole time. I've probably picked the worse time ever to bring this up, but I just can't keep it inside anymore. I need to know what he thinks. And I need to know it now.

"Why would you say that?" his voice is stern, but still concerned.

"Its just," I begin slowly, picking my words carefully. "We went back to deal with those goons in Terminus. The night you got shot. It wasn't for revenge, it was just... they were going to kill us. All of us. And then _eat_ us."

Tanner nods blankly, memories returning from him from the past couple of days, "Yeah," he says. "They were cannibals."

"Yeah," I reply. "Its just. During the whole thing. When we were killing them. I... I wanted to kill them. For what they were trying to do to you. What they planned to do to all of us. Before we left, Dad told me that when killing became easy, that's when we become bad people. I don't _want_ to become bad. But I can't escape these thoughts. The thought that you might die if I couldn't get the medicine they had in their camp. That they might come looking for us and kill us all. Kill you. So killing them... I realized it wasn't hard to do it." By this point, the tears are falling freely from my eyes. They free fall off of my face and drip lightly against Tanner's arm, which is resting close to my chest. I'm so relieved that he's okay, but, at the same time, the anguish that has been building in me over this has been eating me alive. "I helped Dad kill them. All except for Gareth."

Tanner studies me for a good couple of moments, letting my words sink in. But I'm not done yet.

"So, I gotta know." I finish, wiping a string of tears from my eyes with my arm. "Do you think I'm evil?"

And then, the ball is in his court...

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Walking up to Carl has to be the best way to do so.

But our happy reunion is quickly shelved.

Even after being out for the past couple of days, I can remember just how distraught Carl's been lately. Ever since that night when he was almost raped by Joe's group. The following day he'd confessed to Michonne and I that he thought himself a monster. And even in the boxcar, he just didn't seem himself. When I'd asked what I missed, just a few seconds ago, his entire demeanor collapsed. Has he been waiting this whole time to tell me this? But, regardless of my circumstances, I know I have to give him an answer. He needs it. More to the point, he needs it to be the truth. The pain in my abdomen, from the gunshot, temporarily forces me to wince. Its certainly better than I remember it being a few days ago, but, nevertheless, it can distract my thoughts easily whenever it flares up like that.

"Carl," I finally say after much consideration. "You've gotta stop beating yourself up."

I expect him to protest. He always does.

But this time he doesn't.

He simply watches me, listens, tears still twinkling in his eyes.

"You're not evil." I continue, pushing through another wave of stabbing pain. "A-and you're not a monster either. Everything that you've just told me. Everything that you've done. You're just a man trying to protect the people he loves. Same as your dad. Same as... me."

Its a true admission.

The well of my memory runs deep. I remember the first time Carl was almost raped. The frenzy of rage I flew into to protect him. I'd have killed everyone on that road in a vicious slaughter if that's what it would've taken to protect him. And then there was Nat. Upon seeing her again, my world fell apart. I didn't think I'd recover from that one. But when I discovered Carl had run off to kill her, in protection of me, and she'd hurt him in the process? I remember how badly I just wanted to tear her throat out. To carve her corpse up with my sword and feed it to the walkers. Come to think of it, I've done and thought a lot of horrible things since the world ended. Even more so in defense of Carl and my new group. My pack. My mother always use to tell me that intense situations bring out the real person inside of you. And while this world can twist that side of you into more of an animal than a man, that same basic principle applies even now. Sometimes, horrible things have to be done if you want to protect who you love.

I've known that for a long time.

It seems Carl is at the point now where he is having to decide, for him, if that is true or not.

"But, how can you be so sure?" he finally asks, his expression pained and confused. "How many more people do we have to kill before we stop thinking like that?"

I feel my expression soften.

I love this guy so much.

He's not bad. No matter how much he tries to convince himself, and everyone else, that he is. And now I can see it in his eyes. He really meant what he said earlier. He doesn't want to be bad. And that's when I realize that, if he ever is to believe that, he needs someone to show it to him. To once and for all put those worries and doubts to rest. I summon what strength I can and lift my arm, resting the palm of my hand gently against his cheek. With my thumb, I lovingly stroke away the tears that are drying across the splatter of cute freckles on his face. He doesn't say anything. He just continues to watch me. Waiting for what I have to say.

Waiting for his answer.

"I'm sure, because," I say. "Carl, evil doesn't worry about being good. The world is different. It changes you. And sometimes, we have to do things we're not proud of. You've seen me... anytime someone's ever tried to hurt you. Whenever I've felt threatened or felt someone was threatening you, or our people. I've done some pretty monstrous things too."

He's silent. Listening. Completely transfixed.

"What sets us apart from them, the people who hurt for no other reason than to hurt, is that we don't shy away from the fact that what we do is wrong." I continue. "We know its wrong and we don't like it, but we _have_ to. Its not easy, but keep each other alive, we have to get our hands dirty. Bloody even. But we take no pleasure in it. I don't. And you don't either. Carl, don't you see? The fact that you're doing wrong is eating you alive, but you do it anyways because its the key to protecting your loved ones. That's how I know you're still good. You always have been and you always will be."

That seems to do the trick.

The last of Carl's restraints come completely down and he collapses into me, sobbing hard into my chest. Its relief I know. He was fully expecting me to agree with him and call him a monster too. Knowing that I wasn't going to do that must've taken tons of weight off of his chest. Doing my best not to strain my injury, I wrap my arms around him for the first time in several days. And boy does it feel good. To have him wrapped in my arms again, holding him tightly against my chest, taking in his aroma, his presence. It is intoxicating.

"I thought I was going to lose you." he sobs into my chest.

"Lose me?" I grin, squeezing him again sweetly. "Pssh, as if I'd ever let a measly bullet take me out. I can't afford to be that ordinary."

His sobs turn into tearful laughing. I can't see his face, as its still buried in my chest, but I can feel him laughing into my chest. Its magnificent. Aside from a chuckle here and there, I haven't heard him laugh like this since the funeral home. I know. I know he's laughing out of sheer relief, though I'd like to think its because of my hilarious sense of humor, but I'm happy just to know that he's still able to laugh, despite all that has happened to us. Returning to a serious demeanor, I lightly rub his back and reassure him;

"I'm not going anywhere, bud."

And all is right with the world again...

####

Another day passes.

With each day, my strength slowly returns to me.

I'm back on my feet today, even though I'm no where near ready to travel again just yet. The group is assembled in the foyer of the church, where Rick is discussing our plans for once I'm ready to travel again. And while everyone is in agreement that this church cannot be home, only Abraham has a real suggestion;

"Why don't you all come with Eugene, Rosita, and I to Washington?" the sergeant suggests.

"That's right." Glenn chimes in. "We were going to go there before we got caught in Terminus."

"What's in Washington?" Rick asks, curious.

I'm pretty curious myself.

I prefer to avoid any city that is, or was, full of politicians. Its just my policy.

"Eugene here knows the real reason this whole shit grenade went off and took the world with it." Abraham explains plainly. "We're taking him to Washington to help the mookity mooks up there put an end to this thing. Save the whole damn human race."

Now _that _I wasn't expecting.

This guy knew what the hell caused the apocalypse?! Rick seems just as shocked, but Abraham is still busy speaking.

"We need people if we are to hope for this mission to be a success." the red-head continues. "With this whole Terminus bullshit, we've been sidetracked. We need to get back on track. Now, you folks have been through the ringer. You've seen it all. Glenn and Maggie have filled us in a bit. So I'd say, once your little friend gets well enough to make the journey, we find us a car or two, caravan up, and haul ass to Washington."

I look at Carl.

He looks back.

We're both incredulous. This is a bit much to take in all at once. There may actually be a solution to this whole walker crisis? After nearly two years of living hell? Well, I'm sold. Going with Abraham to Washington sounds completely sane to me. And, judging by Rick's facial expression, he has come to the same conclusion. A quick glance around the room confirms this. Seems everyone is on the same page.

"Washington it is, then." Rick declares.

Finally we have a direction again.

The group disperses, everyone scattering to chat, or grab rations for the afternoon. I follow Carl back to the pews in the sanctuary, where I take a seat, and prepare to relax. My abdomen is anything if not sore at the moment. He approaches, taking a seat beside me, only to hand me a very familiar trinket of mine. One I thought I'd never see again.

My sword.

"Got this for you back in Terminus." he says. "Thought you'd want it back."

I chuckle and take the scabbard of the sheathed weapon into my hand, "Well, well. And here I thought I'd never see this beauty again." I reply happily. "Thank you, Carl."

Its touching that he thought to bring this back to me. To be honest, I would've been happy never to see it again, given its connection to Nat. But then... it also has a connection to Carl. Now more than ever, so I suppose I'm happy to hold onto it, until we both decide I don't need it any longer.

"How do you feel about it?" he asks suddenly. "About Washington?"

"Well," I reply. "Its good to have a new destination. Even if it is several states away from us. As long as it doesn't lead us into another den of cannibals, I'm good with it."

He smirks at this, but before he can retort, there is a loud commotion from the front foyer that draws our attention; snapping us from our conversation. Rick and the others are surrounding the door of the foyer. Through the distorted glass that makes up the windows of the wooden doors at the front of the church, I can barely make out the silhouette of people standing outside. Another knock comes at the door.

We have company.

* * *

**A/N: Wow. Firstly, I have to apologize to you guys. I completely left out of my last author's note that I was going on vacation this weekend. I totally didn't intend this chapter to take three days to pump out, so I hope it was worth the wait! We're finally moving out of the Terminus plot and onto Washington D.C.! And who might our new mysterious guests be? Anyone's guess, so I guess we'll find out next time! xD**

**Onto the reviews!**

**HeadedCoffee: I tried to do that this chapter. To really show Carl suffering over the possibility of losing yet another person, while simultaneously spilling his guts when everything turns out alright. Kid's been through a lot. I can't imagine having to lose someone ELSE. I hope it was to your satisfaction! :D Thanks for the comment and review! (P.S. I'm glad you had to add in "when" Tanner recovers. It suggests to me you had the thought that he might die. Tanner isn't safe from death in this story, true to TWD as I am, so I'm glad someone else got the feel that he might, even though he didn't end up dying in the end. Good catch!)**

**chilledmoons: Make my day?! This review made my week! You are much too kind and I am deeply honored that you feel so strongly about this story. I'm glad you find Tanner so relateable. One of the main things I shoot for when I write him is to really connect him to the reader. I want the reader to feel like they could be in his shoes and think the things he thinks, feel the things he feels, and do the things he does, so I'm glad you're getting that experience. I do so enjoy hearing that people have taken to him the way that they have. As to the sexual aspect, you are thinking exactly how I thought about all of this. They are two boys with some hormonal issues and a lot of pent up frustrations, and sometimes, that's the only way you can release it xD I do try to keep it natural, so that it doesn't feel like its thrown in there, so I'm glad you felt that it was a good and helpful addition to the story! Your review has definitely inspired me to keep on going strong! I promise to try my best to continue making this an endearing and enjoyable story from start to finish! Thank you so, so, SO much for your comments and thoughts! :D Have a WONDERFUL week!**

**Guest143: Yep :) I was already planning on him doing so. Carl wouldn't leave something that important to Tanner behind, so I figured he'd find a way to bring it back!**

**MaybeAMonster: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really appreciate this! :) I really go out of my way to make sure there is depth to the characters in this story. TWD is my favorite show on television just because of how awesome and interesting the characters are, both in their interactions with each other, as well as within themselves, so I'm trying my best to translate that to this story as well. I'm really happy you like Tanner! One of the challenges of creating a story with an OC co-protagonist is that I have to work really hard to make sure Tanner really belongs in this world along with the characters from the show we know and love, so I'm glad you and others who have commented on him really find him to be a fulfillment of that. As a writer, it only makes me want to continue making this story better and better! As to the smut, yes, you will be getting one of those scenes from Carl's point of view very soon. I've been saving his point of view on that particular matter for a very important event that I'm almost ready to show! So stay tuned for that! Additionally, I'm glad you find it realistic. You hit the nail on the head. They definitely love each other, but they're still discovering sex and their sexuality, so I'm really glad that comes through the way it does. To answer your question: Yes! They will absolutely be having that conversation with one another in an upcoming chapter. I'm going to dedicate an entire chapter to them resolving that issue in particular, so you have something to look forward to there! Good question! It means a lot to me that you've recommended this story. I'm glad you enjoy it to the extent that you would tell others about it :) I hope they enjoy it as much as you have! Once more, thank you SO much for your review and kind words. And don't worry, the story is into its second half, but its still got a little ways to go before coming to an end, so you've still got a lot more to look forward to ^.^**

**Wow guys. Thank you SO much! You're all awesome and are the reasons I keep this story up so diligently. An author dreams for an readership that is this dedicated, kind, and considerate. Honestly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all!**

**Until the next chapter!**

**Later!**


	30. Reunion Pt 3

Thick tension, like humid, musky air, hangs over all of us.

Instinctively, I reach for the sword Carl has only just given me back. I know I can't fight yet. Not in my condition. But I'll be damned if I'm caught sitting on my ass while something happens to the others around me. In lieu of myself and the others, Carl has drawn his gun and has it steadily aimed at the doorway. This distortion caused by the warped glass, which makes up the windows on the church's entrance doors, makes it impossible for me to properly identify who is at the door or how many of them there are. Rick is certainly not taking any chances. Gun still drawn and pointed at the doorway, he eases backwards towards one of the outer windows to peak out and observe our guests before they find a way in. Whoever is out there, though, must've heard us scatter when they knocked on the door, because a baritone, thick Southern voice comes from the other side of the door.

"Whoever's in there," the clearly male voice says. "We don't want any trouble. Just lookin' for a place to stay the night."

Daryl and Michonne's expressions immediately liven up.

"Is that...?" Michonne breathes.

"Sure sounds like 'im." Daryl agrees.

And I am utterly confused.

The two of them seem to recognize the burly voice. Whoever it is, I don't recognize them, though I take comfort in the fact that neither Daryl nor Michonne seem particularly worried any longer. We all turn our gaze on Rick, who also seems to have frozen in his own tracks. Whether or not he recognizes the voice too, he doesn't say. Rick is just about to start backpedaling to the window again, once more trying to get a view on this mysterious newcomer, when a sound breaks the tension and completely shifts the mood of the entire room. Its faint at first. A hiccup here. Another there. And then a cry pierces the air. Not the cry of a wounded person or animal.

The cry of a baby.

And infant.

I don't know why I do so, but my eyes immediately switch to Carl. His face has gone completely pale. I'm not sure what is going on, but the nagging feeling in my gut tells me that whoever is on the other side of that door—who has managed to transfix the group with his voice and the cries of a child—is about to change the atmosphere of this group forever. Rick seems the most affected, however. Like me, his gaze has drifted to Carl, and like his son, he is deathly pale. The baby's cry rings out once again, snapping Rick out of whatever it is that is holding him back, and forcing him to frantically run towards the church door. He seizes the handles in both hands and, almost violently, tears the doors open. Standing on the porch, on the other side of what once separated us, is a large, rugged, African-American man, wearing a black ski cap, and a shorter, petite woman, with somewhat spiky gray hair. In her arms is the source of the commotion we've been hearing.

She cradles an infant—a girl by the looks of her—with reddish-brown hair and a plump face, dressed in pink and purple flowered baby clothes.

And then all the puzzle pieces snap into place.

Regardless, before I'm able to say or do anything, I see Carl's composure completely collapse. Tears are pouring from their ducts in his sapphire eyes before he can fully take off running. Within seconds, he bounds across the foyer towards the strangers and practically smothers the petite woman: more specifically the infant child in her arms. What I can only describe as a screeching sob escapes from Rick's mouth, in the meantime, and he is quick to join his son in front of the young infant, whom, confronted with all of this new attention, has begun to cry again loudly. Around me, Glenn, Maggie, Daryl, and Michonne seem visibly, emotionally affected. Maggie has tears in her eyes and both Daryl and Glenn seem to be grinning quite widely. On the other hand, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, and Tara seem just about as bewildered by this as I am—though Rosita and Tara are both sporting soft smiles of their own, likely touched by whatever it is they see in this reunion.

I don't need to be told.

Seeing Carl's reaction told me all I need to know. The other's reactions only confirmed it.

That baby, held in the woman's arms, is none other than Judith Grimes. Carl's little sister. To say I'm shocked would be an understatement. Up until now, Carl and Rick believed her dead—eaten by walkers in the Governor's attack on the prison, prior to their meeting me. In fact, little Judith's death has weighed tremendously on Carl since the day I met him. There isn't a day that's gone by that he hasn't blamed himself for her death. Seeing him now, cradling her in his arms, bawling like a baby burst open a hidden well of emotion hidden deep inside of me. One I didn't even know I possessed. Instinctively, I advance from the back of the church, joining the others in the foyer. I stop when I catch Michonne eyeing me. Her smile is radiant. Its the first time I've ever seen Michonne smile that widely. There are sparkles of tears in her own eyes; its rare that I ever see her emotions surface in this manner. But this time—this one time—it is truly a proper reaction.

I continue forward, until I'm just a few feet behind Carl. He's weeping uncontrollably, slender body shuttering as it is racked by intense emotions. Slowly, Rick takes his young daughter from his son. She is still crying, as to be expected from an infant her age, but that doesn't seem to bother Rick who's face is filled with joy, relief, and sorrow all at once. I've seen Rick emotional once or twice. When Carl nearly got killed by Nat being one of the more outstanding examples, in my mind; but this was something on an entirely different level. I've never seen him like _this_. Carl seems reluctant in giving up his baby sister, but he finally releases her to his father. His next reaction surprises me, as I wasn't exactly prepared for him to move so quickly. He must've sensed me approach seconds ago, because, acting solely on instinct, he swivels around and throws his arms around me. In his emotional state, he forgets about the wound in my abdomen, causing searing pain to shoot up through me, but I endure it.

It doesn't last long anyways.

I hold onto him tightly, collapsing backwards into the wall behind me for support, and its here that I rock him gently in my arms. These tears are happy tears. And they're contagious. My eyes are soon swelling with them as well and I bury my nose into his mop of hair, gently nuzzling him lovingly, regardless of who sees or what they think of it. My heart swells with love for him. Even more so with relief. Relief for him. Relief for us. Judith's return didn't just represent a broken family being reunited despite all of the terrible odds.

It represented hope.

And these days, we can take all the hope we can get...

####

"Everyone," its Rick, still somewhat tearful from the reunion with his daughter. "This is Carol and Tyreese."

He's introducing them for my sake, as well as that of Tara, Eugene, Abraham, and Rosita: as all of us have never met them before. We've rearranged in the minutes since these newcomers came through our doors. We are now assembled in a group circle, using the wide foyer to accommodate for our numbers, which has now reached sixteen if one counts Judith. And I do. Rick is cradling his infant child protectively, and, standing directly next to him, I'm doing similar with his oldest child. Carl's eyes are still swollen and red from bawling his eyes out earlier, but the happiness on his face is nothing short of radiant. No amount of sunlight could match the shine of Carl's smile. I am standing behind him, leaning up against the nearest wall, arms wrapped lightly around his upper chest. The overall mood of the group is nothing short of jovial.

I'd begun to forget it could be this way.

That _everyone,_ collectively, could still be this happy from time to time; even given the circumstances outside.

To my great surprise, the silent warrior that is Daryl Dixon, has come out of his shell upon being reunited with Carol. Carl had once told me that, though the two of them had no formal romantic relationship to speak of, the two of them had become very close in their time on the road. Sitting here now, observing them personally, I have to say I agree with him. Upon seeing him, Carol had embraced Daryl, and, to my surprise, the redneck had returned her hug. I'd never seen him show that kind of affection in the short time I've known him. But that wasn't the only reunion that was worth speaking about. As it turns out, Tyreese is Sasha's older brother. In a similar manner to the Grimes family, both Sasha and Tyreese had broken down into uncontrollable sobbing upon spotting one another. Truly this was a day to celebrate. We were running on no shortage of happiness today. It felt well deserved after everything that happened to us in Terminus.

"How did you find us?" Rick asks, looking to Tyreese.

"We didn't know it was you. We just saw this place and thought it'd be good to hole up for the night here." the larger man admits. "We came from a place called Terminus. When we got there... place was gone. Nothing but corpses."

"We know." Glenn chimes in.

"You guys go there too?" Tyreese asks, completely oblivious.

"Yeah, we went there." Rick replies. "Almost got eaten in the process."

Both Carol and Tyreese's faces contort in confusion. I'll spare you the details you already know. Long story short, Rick launches into an abbreviated recap of the events shortly leading up to, during, and following Terminus. Tyreese seems visibly stunned with the revelation of the Terminus cannibals. Carol even seems somewhat tense. It ended up being a lengthy discussion, but, in the end, I think both Carol and Tyreese are relieved that they dodged that particular bullet. Rick also seems relieved, since their arrival would've meant Judith's capture by those monsters. My blood sizzles at the thought of what Gareth and his goons might have done to her. Its only after this explanation that Carol and Tyreese begin explaining their journey thus far.

"I got out with Lizzie, Mika, and Judith." Tyreese explains. "Found Carol the next day. She saw the end of it."

Rick suddenly seems tense.

As if the mention of how Tyreese found Carol bothers him somehow. I don't pay it any heed, however, because Rick promptly takes charge of the flow of the conversation.

"What happened to them?" he asks. "The other girls?"

"Lizzie killed Mika." Carol chimes in, her voice as soft as her expression.

This revelation seems to shock everyone, even Carl. I assume Carl knew these children from back at the prison. In the back of my mind, I wonder if they'd been friends of his. I hope they were good to him. Even so, he doesn't seem _too_ distraught over their passing, so I can only assume that they weren't too close.

"She tried to kill Judith too." Carol goes on. I feel Carl physically stiffen upon hearing that. I give him a gentle squeeze to soothe him and he quickly relaxes again. "She was a threat. We couldn't have her with us. We... W-we had... _I_ had to put her down."

I can hear the emotion behind Carol's voice.

Whoever these girls were, they seem important to her. The story of their demise was certainly tragic, but more tragic was the sheer anguish painted across Carol's face. Even Tyreese looks shaken up.

"I'm sorry you had to do that." Rick consoles her. "But thank you. Thank you both, for protecting my child."

At this, Carol offers a visible smile. Their story over, I notice Carol's gaze shift from Rick to Carl and I. Our position hasn't changed at all and I've made no attempt to conceal our affection for one another during this little pow-wow. At first, the glint in her eyes tells me she's curious, but then a smile curls across her wrinkled face.

"So, Carl," she perks up, an almost playful tone to her voice now. "Gonna introduce us to your friend?"

I was expecting that, sooner or later.

Carl shifts in my arms and turns around to look at me, flashing me a brief smile, which is only made more cute by the fact that his eyes are still outlined in redish-pink from where he's been crying. In tandem, the rest of the group constricts their attention solely to me. I must admit, it is the most uncomfortable, and embarrassing moment of my life. I _hate_ being in the spotlight. I'm the type of guy who prefers to just hang out at the edge of the crowd and let the others do the talking. Seems I wouldn't be able to play that role today. Nevertheless, if Carl is okay with talking about me, then I suppose I don't really mind. I know what his opinion of me is, and, frankly, his is all that matters. But its not just Carol that seems intrigued. Glenn and Maggie, in particular, perk up. They've asked Rick about me in the past, but, given our circumstances at the time, we weren't in the best of places to be talking about it.

"I'll let you handle this one." Carl replies, grinning slyly at me.

_You little turd..._

_Putting me on the spot like this..._

He's relishing the blush that comes over my face. Then again, he's always taken particular pride in his ability to pick on me, or put me on the spot, whenever he so wishes. Sighing aloud, I grin back at him, more an "_I'll-get-you-for-this-later_" kind of grin than anything else. That only seems to intensify his mischievous demeanor. Finally, I face Carol—and the others—and begin to speak: to tell my story at last.

####

"Well, let's see." I huff. "Where do I begin? I'm Tanner. Tanner Bradly. I'm seventeen years old, and, more importantly, am this guy's boyfriend."

Carl beams.

I never will quite get over how proud he gets when one of us admits that to someone else. To think that just a little over a month ago, he was terrified to even breathe a word of it, lest his father find out about us. Anymore, it is all I can do from keeping him from finding a blow horn to tell everyone human and walker in the state of Georgia about us. At the same time, however, it is heartwarming to know he's content in our relationship to that point. Tyreese doesn't react to this revelation, but it does seem to bring a wider grin to Carol's face. This, to me, can mean one of two things: either, one, she already suspected Carl to be gay long before this, or she was incredibly amused by the prospect of Carl being gay and having found a significant other. Judging by her previous demeanor, and what Carl has told me of her, I'm going to assume its the first option.

"Like I've always said," Daryl mutters, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Everythin' with this group is always a damn romance novel."

Carl chuckles aloud at that.

"So, Tanner." Carol ignores him, still smiling as she homes in on me. "Tell us a little bit about yourself."

Oh God. Its like a special psycho addition of "_This Is Your Life_".

How do I even _begin_ to tell these people all about me? Carl knows almost everything, as does Michonne, and Rick is getting there, but they've had an entire month to get to know me. There have been no shortage of opportunities for them. So, instead of telling her anything and everything, I decide to give her the abridged version of me since the world came to a screeching halt almost two years ago.

"Well, I'm from Texas. North Texas, specifically: a small town called Wichita." I begin. "Moved to Atlanta for school about a week before the dead started coming back. When it all happened, I was found out on the highway, that fateful night, by a woman named Nat and soon after that, I joined her group. Things were... alright after that, I suppose. Until a mob of walkers swarmed our camp. Killed everyone. Nat and I... got separated after that. I fled into the countryside and wandered around for an eternity. Oh sure, I encountered people here and there, but none were too friendly. Well, that is until I stumbled upon this guy," I indicate with a smile to Carl. "In a neighborhood I was traveling through."

"Let me guess." Its Tara who interrupts this time. "Love at first sight, am I right?"

She's sarcastic, but grinning, and I laugh, pretty loudly, at this.

"Well..." I trail off.

"We tried to kill each other." Carl interjects bluntly.

The memory comes back, fresh as though it were only yesterday, of the first time I ever laid eyes on Carl Grimes. Its funny to think of how all of this has happened because of a whim I had back then. Found his message on a door, rescued his shoe, and its true... we _did_ nearly kill each other. But we didn't, in the end, and our paths collided again the following day. When it truly began.

"How romantic." Tara retorts sarcastically, rolling her eyes: drawing chuckles from everyone, myself included.

My story complete, we all go silent for a moment, basking in the comfort of each other's presence. Michonne was right when she said I'd get use to group contact quickly. For the longest time, it'd just been me on the road. Then there was Rick, and Carl, and Michonne. Now our group is at _sixteen_ people. It is nice, though. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be in a group this large. There was comfort with numbers. Especially in a group as close knit as this one seemed to be. Eventually, however, Rick breaks our silence, rising to his feet.

"Well, looks like we need to go on a run." he announces. "With Judith here, we'll need a makeshift bed for her, maybe some powdered milk."

"Those people in Terminus had the milk." Daryl chimes in.

"And we passed a small town on the way to Terminus." Maggie joins. "I can take you back there. Maybe we'll find something for Judith to use."

"I'll go." Carl volunteers.

Truthfully, I don't want him to go.

It won't stop him from going anyways, and I know its his baby sister he's going for, so he feels obligated. Still, with my injury, its going to be a few more days before I can travel decently again. From the sounds of it, the run is going to be _at least_ a day long, not counting any complications, and that would mean a day or longer away from him. Worrying. Waiting. Luckily for me, Rick saves me before I can even protest.

"I need you here." he replies. "I need you to take care of your sister while I'm away. Tanner will give you a hand, I'm sure."

Normally, Carl would surely argue being left out of a run, but the sudden return of his sister has reigned him back in to some extent. With a new found sense of duty, and me at his side to assist him, he simply nods at his father and doesn't argue any further. Rick gathers up Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Tyreese, Sasha, and Bob to go out on the run with him, leaving myself, Carl, Michonne, Carol, Judith, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, and Tara behind to guard the church. We see them off, just as the afternoon sun is taking its place in the middle of the sky, and then the church is quiet again. I follow Carl back, past the foyer, into the tiny sanctuary of the church. He cradling little Judith, who is being surprisingly quiet today, in his arms quite happily.

As I watch him swaddle his infant sister, I begin to become keenly aware of just how attractive he is.

I've never had _this_ problem before.

But, I suppose I can't deny it. Standing there, in the entry to the sanctuary, watching Carl rocking his baby sister back and forth in his arms, all the while continuing to make funny faces at her, which often prompts her to smile in ways only a baby can, I can suddenly envision him ten years older, with a young, infant child of his own. And that thought is absolutely alluring. Not to mention insanely attractive. Perhaps its just this new side of Carl I'm getting to see. Oh sure, I've seen him be sweet and romantic before, but I've never gotten to see this side of him. Big brother Carl. Its just another way I can connect to him. Seeing him here like this reminds me of when I was a big brother. I had two siblings; Mike, my younger brother, and Anna, my younger sister. Of course, they were much older than Judith—both being in their early teens, in fact—but that doesn't detract from the nostalgia of it all. In a way, the memories welling up inside of me bring back a vacuum that I'd almost forgotten existed. Ever since I met Carl, I hadn't really given much thought to my family, other than a few memories here and there. He'd become my family. He and Rick and Michonne. The others were on the slow track to joining them, now, too. But I suppose the black hole created by the loss of my own family had never gone completely away.

"You okay?" Carl's deepening adolescent voice snaps me from memory road.

I shake my head of the memories and glance back up at him.

He is stationary, just a few feet away from me, but there is something missing. Judith. I turn around just in time to see Carol walking back towards the foyer, infant in tow. Apparently, I'd been so out of it, I'd never even seen her come into the room and take the young child away from her older brother. Returning my gaze to Carl, his eyebrow raises a few inches with concern, though he doesn't say anything.

"Yeah," I finally say, snorting a muffled laugh. "Its nothing."

The concern in Carl's eyes doesn't go away. I suppose it can't be helped. What else do you do when someone completely zones out and is like that for several minutes? If he ever did that to me, I'd be pretty worried to. Hell, he _has_ done that to me before. Without warning, Carl steps forward, closing the remaining distance between us and wraps his skinny arms around my waist, resting his chin directly in the center of my chest so that he can gaze up at me with those perfect cerulean spheres of his.

"You sure?" he double checks, and I can feel his voice vibrating through my pectoral muscles.

I can't help but smile. "Yeah," I reply, snaking my arms around him in return before planting a soft kiss on his forehead. The first kiss I've given him since Terminus. "Everything is peachy."

We stay that way for a few moments, just basking in the silence that hangs around us, while simultaneously enjoying the simple comfort of the other's company. But he doesn't let me get too comfortable, because, eventually, he relents, breaking from our embrace.

"C'mon," he says, grabbing my wrist as he begins to drag me, back towards the foyer, behind him.

"Where're we going?"

"Carol wants me to help feed Judith." he replies. "You're going to help _me_ help her."

"Feed?" I'm confused. "I thought your dad and the others went to get powdered milk for her?"

"Carol still has a little food from when they were on the road." Carl explains.

We find Carol in the foyer with Tara and Michonne. Abraham and his posse seem to be outside, at the moment, keeping watching. The three women smile upon seeing us approach.

"I was wondering what was taking so long." Carol comments mischievously, with a smile. "You come to help too, Tanner?"

"I've been told I _have_ to." I joke, winking at Carl with a grin.

Carol is holding a small, plastic baby bottle, filled with what looks to be the last of our on-hand baby formula. As good as I am with taking care of sick people, I know next to nothing about handling a baby. Much less the rules surrounding their feeding. When my siblings were infants, I was far too young, myself, to take part in helping care for them in this manner. That in mind, it surprises me when Carol begins the process of handing baby Judith over to me. I fully expected to just be watching this little event unfold. But no, as it turns out, they are intent on giving me a hands-on lesson on how to care for the infant Grimes. At first, I look like a deer in headlights, not knowing what to do. Carl gives me a nudge, urging me forward, and so, reluctantly, I hold my arms out and allow Carol to carefully lay Judith into them.

Judith Grimes is a fairly large baby. At nearly ten months old, she is fairly heavy, for a baby, in my arms. Its the first time I've held a baby in years. Even before the outbreak, I didn't much deal with babies of any kind. But, I admit, the feeling was... oddly satisfying. I fully expect Carl's baby sister to begin crying hysterically upon being handed over to me. After all, I am a stranger to her still, but, surprisingly, little Judith remains completely silent and I get my first, good, close up look at her. As I've mentioned before, Judith has reddish-brown hair, which I can only assume will darken with age into something reminiscent of Carl's dark mop. Like her older brother and her father, she has piercing blue eyes. Her cheeks are full and chunky, as to be expected in a child her age. Ultimately, only one word comes to my mind that can fully sum up little Judith: adorable. With just this moment, her tiny eyes gazing innocently back into mine, the infant Grimes completely takes hold of my heart. I don't even notice myself begin to grin like a fool.

In fact, it isn't until I see Carl grinning just as widely as I am, out of the corner of my eye, that I notice that _everyone_ is reacting similarly.

"Ready for this?" Carol indicates towards the bottle of dwindling formula, still in her hand.

I nod and am handed the plastic contraption.

Judith quite happily latches on to the plastic nipple and, as I tilt it up, just enough to get the fluid inside going, she begins to wolf down the milky liquid quite hungrily. Clearly, she was very hungry. It makes me wonder just how much Carol and Tyreese have had to ration the formula to make it stretch. We all observe Judith feed for several minutes in happy silence. For a new, somewhat unnerving situation, I am actually enjoying myself quite a bit. Carl can't seem to take his eyes off of us. It makes me wonder what is going on in that handsome head of his.

Its Carol who ends us shattering our silence.

"She should start walking soon." she mentions. "She's about ten months now. Sophia started at nine."

This marks the first time I've heard anyone, outside of Carl, mention Sophia. In fact, I'd completely forgotten Carol was Sophia's mother. Carl had told me, before the Governor's prison onslaught, Carol rarely mentioned her daughter. I know the gruesome details of Sophia's death, however, so I can't exactly blame Carol for not wanting to talk about her daughter whenever she can avoid it.

"Will she start talking, too?" Carl chimes in.

"A word or two, at first, maybe." Carol replies, nodding.

Finally, Judith releases the nipple of the bottle from her tiny mouth, releasing somewhat of a cross between a burp and a high-pitched sigh. Carol promptly takes her bottle from me. A quick look at the plastic container indicates that the infant has devoured most of its contents. Only a small amount of milky fluid remains inside. Free of the bottle now, and with my responsibilities, for the moment, done with, I rock Judith slowly and sweetly in my arms. Her eyes flutter wearily and its not long before it dawns on me that the poor child is probably getting sleepy. It'd make sense for her to feel that way right after eating.

"You're a natural." Michonne comments with a grin.

"Looks like she's getting pretty sleepy, though." I reply. "What has she been sleeping on?"

"Just a blanket." Carol replies with a sigh. "Its no crib, but its all we had after the prison."

I nod understandingly.

People in the old world would probably gasp at the thought of a baby sleeping on a hard surface, with nothing but a blanket to shelter her from the hard ground, but there simply isn't anything we can do to alleviate that. Unless... Thinking quickly, I carefully hand Judith off to Carol and then I'm on my feet, heading back to the sanctuary. Carl is hot on my heels.

"What is it?" he asks, somewhat bewildered by my sudden burst of energy.

"The pews." I reply. "They're cushioned. We'll let her sleep here."

"Someone will have to sit with her." Carol interjects, having followed us into the larger room. "So that she doesn't roll off the edge in her sleep."

"Carl and I will." I suddenly volunteer.

Carl shoots me an inquisitive gaze and I simply offer him a smile and a nod in return.

"You sure?" Carol asks wearily, eyeing the two of us.

I nod again, "Sure, its no big deal. Rick wanted Carl to watch after her and I'll stay with him to keep him company. It all works out."

Carol seems to agree with this logic and she, Carl, and I set to work laying Judith down. Once she is settled on the soft cushioning of one of the outer pews, Carol and Carl wrap her in the blanket the older woman had brought along with her, and with that, little Judith Grimes is ready for a nap. Carol leaves after telling us to come get her in the foyer if anything comes up with the baby and we need anything. We, of course, agree. Carl leans up against the pew, watching as his baby sister slowly, quietly, slips off into dreamland. Seizing the opportunity to cuddle with him, I slide up behind him, allowing him to lean back into me, where he can rest his head on my chest and I can cradle him easily in my arms. For the longest time we both simply watch Judith sleep, but its not long before I notice the sleepy snore-like sounds coming from the boy in my arms. Peeking around at him, my suspicions are confirmed. The day's emotional toll has taken all of the energy out of Carl Grimes. The slumbering boy is now limp, completely lost in the abyss of the dreamworld, in my arms.

That leaves just me to keep an eye on Judith.

But I don't mind.

One Grimes asleep in my arms, the other sleeping just inches away on the pew, I rest my head on top of Carl's and sigh.

_Things are beginning to look up..._

####

Rick and the others return the following morning with fresh supplies.

More importantly, however, they've brought vehicles with them. Several, in fact. No doubt, Rick has brought them for our journey to Washington D.C. After all, without some sort of mobility, walking to D.C. will take us months on end. From the looks of it, anyone who could drive a vehicle, brought one. I count a total of five; a Jeep, a small little farming truck, a fairly small SUV, a sedan, and Daryl is driving some sort of Harley motorcycle. Its not much in the way of a caravan, but, for the purposes of our journey, I suppose it'll do. Rick immediately comes out to greet Carl and Judith before checking on the rest of us. After that, he wastes no time loading the supplies we have in the church into the vehicles.

"We're leaving today?" Tara exclaims upon emerging from the church to see all of the commotion.

"We don't have time to waste." Abraham insists.

"But, we have cars now." Tara argues. "We'll get to D.C. in no time. Why do we have to leave now?"

"Its getting worse out there." Rick interjects, emerging from the church with another bag of supplies. "Even with cars, we won't make it there as quickly as you think."

"Besides," this time its Glenn. "Staying in one place is dangerous. A herd could come through and tear the church down. Or, even worse, more people. We need to go now, while we still have a chance."

"Not to mention," Abraham again. "Eugene getting to Washington is a top priority. We've wasted enough time as it is. Now that your friend is good enough to stand, we need to move. Pronto."

With this, Tara relents, shrugging as she walks back into the church to assist with supply gathering.

"Any of these things have a car seat?" Carol barks as she exits with baby Judith in her arms.

"The SUV does." Rick replies, pointing it out. "We made sure to locate one while we were out."

Carol doesn't respond, simply trotting over to where Rick had indicated, proceeding to strap Judith in. Carl and I linger around in the midst of all of this, half in a daze at all of the activity, and half trying to find out what we should do, if anything. I am on Rick and Abraham's side of this thing. I want out of her and out of here fast. Its been nice recovering in a church, but, the fact of the matter is, we're _still_ to close to the abandoned ruins of Terminus, for my tastes. Anywhere is better than here in the grand scheme of things. Ten minutes later, Rick and the others have finished loading our belongings into the caravan. The group splits up, fairly evenly, and we all begin to climb into the various assortment of vehicles.

"Abraham!" Rick calls out before hopping into the driver's seat of the SUV. "This is your mission, you'll lead the way. We'll follow."

"Sounds peachy!" the sergeant barks over the roar of five car engines. "Let's get the hell out of Dodge!"

No further words need be spoken at that point.

I have loaded myself into the backseat of the SUV, right next to Carl, who is, himself, next to Judith's car seat. The middle row is occupied by Michonne, who has promptly, and quite hysterically, stretched herself out across the seat to relax. Its a strangely nostalgic way to set off on this new leg of our journey. With the addition of Judith, the car is full of the four people I began this lengthy adventure with. Its relaxing. Even though I'm happy to be part of a larger group, its nice that our little "pack", for the moment, is back on its own. Figuratively speaking, of course. Abraham and his crew, in the Jeep, are the first to pull out. Rick steps on the gas ever-so-slightly and begins to follow him out. From there, there rest of the group, in the remaining vehicles, fall into line behind us. Trees flash past my window, then the all too familiar train tracks we'd followed for so long prior to Terminus, and then, soon, its nothing but open road. Starting in Macon, I know our journey will be long and full of bumps, as it always has been...

...But I'm ready for whatever is to come.

* * *

**A/N: I decided to make Judith's little reunion on the 30th chapter. Since that's kind of a big deal. Its been a long while since I had a fanfiction hit the 30 chapter mark. I'm definitely pleased! That being said, though, the story is starting to wind down! Like I said in an earlier chapter, I plan to end this one with the Alexandria Safe-Zone (comic readers will know what I'm talking about). So, I predict that this story will probably wrap up around Chapter 40, and perhaps 41 for the Epilogue, give or take a few chapters. That should give me plenty of time to resolve any loose ends this story has in its plot and finally bring it to a close! I know *sniff* I don't want it to end either, but every good thing has to have an ending. That being said, I'm absolutely a-okay with writing a sequel to this story. But, like this one, it solely depends on interest. So, if you guys would like to see a sequel of this story, either PM me, or leave your opinion in your reviews when you review this chapter or the ones that follow. If enough interest gets generated, I will be all too happy to start putting together a plot for the sequel. I already have some ideas in mind. Just some clarification: this is NOT the last chapter. But it is coming up fairly soon...ish.**

**With that announcement out of the way, onto the reviews from the previous chapter:**

**Guest143: Prooobably not. He lost one of his two swords against Nat, and Carl returned the sword he lost in Terminus to him, so, for the time being, he only has one. Its going to stay that way from here on out. Thank you for your question! :)**

**HeadedCoffee: Excellent! I'm so glad the scene played out that way for you! Carl definitely needs someone in this world. He's a tough soul, but even the strong ones need someone to hold onto. Especially when the world has become the hell that it is out there. Side note, I like how you call Carl your "champ". That's kinda the way I see him, both in this story, and in the TV series. Michonne is my favorite character in TWD, but Carl is who I'm rooting for. Who I've been rooting for since Season 1. Its always nice to see him get a break from time to time, because he's such a strong character in the show and Kirkman definitely puts him through the ringer lol Thanks for your review :) Much appreciated.**

**Thank you two for your reviews and comments and thank you for everyone who read this chapter!**

**We're in the final stretch now, folks, so keep tuning in as the rest of this story unfolds! :D**

**See you guys with the next chapter!**

**Later!**


	31. Two Rings

A month has passed since the church.

Since Terminus.

It probably wouldn't have taken us near this long to come to this point—a large cornfield off the side of Interstate 85 somewhere in the countryside of North Carolina—if we hadn't had to spend so much time finding a safe route _around_ Atlanta after leaving Macon—and Terminus—behind. Where there is a will, there is a way, though, as the old saying goes, and somehow or another we made it around the metropolitan area to Gainesville. From there, we were able to exit Georgia, on Interstate 85, into South Carolina. I thought our journey would hit another significant snag when we ran into a massive herd of walkers in Gaffney, South Carolina, but Rick and Abraham, ever the strategic souls, found a way around the herd without even firing a shot, and before I knew it, we hit North Carolina. For the most part, crowded highways of long-abandoned vehicles slowed our caravan down more than the walkers actually did, but Rick had certainly been right the day we left the church.

Things out here _have_ gotten worse.

The United States, or at least, the parts of it I have seen since leaving Georgia, has become something straight out of those science-fiction disaster films. Buildings, having gone two years without any sort of human maintenance, have fallen into complete disarray and the older buildings are on the verge of collapse as a result. To make matters worse, it is April—a fact I only know because Abraham has been anal about keeping up with time—and that means we are right in the center of an active storm season here in the southern United States and while thunderstorms themselves are nothing we worry about, the looming threat of tornadoes also possess us a tremendous threat. I suppose its a good thing we weren't heading to Oklahoma, or anywhere in the Midwest for that matter, or that threat would only be multiplied. The point in saying all that is this; the world really is a shitty place to live in these days. I at least had expected to come across one or two survivor camps on our multi-state mission to the capital of the country, but, so far, we hadn't even seen _one._

Even so; even despite the bleak conditions of the world around me, I am a pretty content guy.

Things aren't all bad, after all. Like I mentioned earlier, its April. And today, in particular, is Carl's birthday. He hasn't made too big a deal out of it, having only mentioned it in passing after Abraham mentioned the date earlier this morning, but I was hoping that Carl and I would get some time to ourselves today. Even if it was only a little, I want to celebrate his sixteenth birthday with him in some manner, although _how_ exactly I was going to accomplish this was still eluding me. As I said, we are currently stranded out on the side of the Interstate, right next to a fairly large sea of cornfields. A sudden, loud, _POP_ from Abraham's Jeep has brought our convoy to a screeching halt on the side of the road, so we take this chance to get out of our vehicles and stretch our legs. Its difficult to tell, with the cloud cover today, but I'm guessing its about midday.

"Son of a goddamn bitch!" Abraham spits venomously, slamming the hood of his Jeep hard enough to wake the dead for miles.

"Abraham," I say, coming around the side of the vehicle, a now eleven month old Judith Grimes cradled in my arms. "If Judy's first words are among the ones that just came out of your mouth, Rick, Carl, and I are going to kick your ass."

Its become sort of a running gag among Carl and I.

I genuinely like Abraham and, I think, he respects me in return. Nevertheless, the man curses like a drunken sailor, and more than once Rick has expressed that he prays that Judith hasn't become too accustomed to it. He seems to fear, almost comically, that her first word (or words) will be from among the long list of vulgar profanity that comes spewing out of Abraham's mouth from time to time. Its hilarious, however, that he'd be concerned about this _now_. After all, Daryl is the one who nicknamed Judith "Lil' Ass-kicker". A term, I admit, we all use occasionally to refer to the ever-spunky young Grimes. The former sergeant regards me with a glare, to which, I can only grin back. He'll probably get me back for that one later. I can almost count on it.

"What's the verdict?" Rick interjects, walking up from behind us.

"The radiator hose is a goner." Abraham grumbles. "Gonna need a new one."

"Maybe we can pick one off of some of those abandoned trucks we left behind us." Daryl suggests, joining our little pow-wow.

"And tools?" I ask.

"We should all spread out." Rick suggests. "We'll arrange the cars in a circle, put Tyreese, Bob, and Sasha on watch, and fan out. See if we can find tools or parts we may need from the vehicles jamming up the highway back there."

He then turns to me.

"You going to stay here and watch Judy?" he asks.

Its touching that Rick trusts me with his children to that degree. Before answering him, I turn and crane my head so that I can see my boyfriend. Carl, having overheard his father's plan, is already gearing up for the run, checking the magazine on his handgun before shoving the weapon into its holster on his leg. Grinning at his growing enthusiasm, I turn back to Rick and shake my head.

"I'll let Carol take care of her." I reply. "Best I go with Rambo, over there, and make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

Its a joke. One Rick smirks at rather humorously.

The group sets to work putting Rick's plan into motion. We arrange our vehicles in a circle, leaving space in the center for Sasha, Bob, Tyreese, Carol, and Judith. The point is to allow the cars to act as a protective barricade while the rest of us are off scavenging. It won't hold off a herd of walkers, but against a small pack of them, it is a method that has proven very effective over the past couple of weeks. True to my word, I hand little Judith off to Carol and, after retrieving my sword from the SUV, Carl and I take off towards the large jam of abandoned vehicles several yards behind our camp. Something we've dubbed the Salvage Yard. The group fans out, as we approach it, splitting up into our individual search teams. Rick and Michonne pair up, as do Glenn and Maggie, Daryl and Eugene, and Abraham and Rosita; leaving Carl and I, finally, to our lonesome. The last month has seen Carl develop quite a bit. Most noticeably, he's slightly taller than he was; now standing only an inch or two shy of myself. His hair has also elongated. At its longest, it now barely touches the tops of his shoulders. I often will joke with him about finding a set of scissors to give him a much needed haircut.

Not that I'm one to talk.

My hair has become annoying long itself, though not nearly as long as his. The difference between us is that long hair works for Carl. Though I've never told him so, I find it incredibly attractive. But on me? Well, let's just say, in my opinion, long hair doesn't suit me. Either way, there is nothing either of us can do about that predicament. I focus my attention on the task at hand, searching through some of the abandoned vehicles as we pass them. For the most part, they seem to be fairly empty of anything useful. They smell of mold and dust, and the most I've found so far is some rotten clothes, a half-empty Coca-Cola bottle, and an old _Linkin Park_ CD. Carl doesn't seem to be having anymore luck than I am.

"So," I say, trying to stir up conversation. "Birthday boy have any plans for today?"

Carl snorts a laugh, "Oh yeah," his tone is sarcastic, making me smirk at him. "Right after we get done scavenging these junk heaps, I'm gonna hit the nearest pizza joint. And then I'm going to find myself the biggest cake I can and eat it all by myself."

"Awww, none for me?" I play along, flashing him a wicked grin.

"Nope." he quips. "Because knowing you, you'd try to eat it all. I still have forgotten about that trick you used to take my candy."

I blush at this.

I hadn't forgotten that little "trick" either. Ever since then, Carl doesn't let me kiss him when he has food of any kind. Nevertheless, it was a nice little light-hearted moment that really eases the tension that's been building over the last few weeks. Being stuck in a caravan going from Macon to Washington is much more tedious than you may realize. Especially when you have Captain America—Abraham—as your navigational guide. My expression softens. I'd asked him that question in jest, but the meaning behind it is serious.

"Seriously though," my voice evens out. "Want to do anything today?"

"Like what?" Carl shrugs. "After we find the parts we need, we'll be back on the road."

That's when I know I have to do something.

Anything.

The Turn may have damn well ended everything we know and love about the old world. About society and the norms that are associated with it, but there is no way I am going to let my boyfriend's sixteenth birthday come and pass without marking the event somehow. I just need something, anything, to give me an idea on what to do.

"Thanks for asking, though, Tanner." his voice comes up again. This time, there's an edge of solemness to it.

"Something bothering you?"

He shakes his head.

A lie.

Carl tells me everything sooner or later, so I know its only a matter of time, but its not rocket science to figure out what it is that is plaguing his young mind. Carl Grimes is a man in almost every way. He's very intelligent, shrewd, compassionate, and lethal when he has to be. Despite this, he is still, in fact, a sixteen year old boy, who, at times, wants to relive the way things were. In this case, its obvious he wants to mark the occasion. After all, back before the outbreak, turning sixteen was a momentous occasion for a teenager. It marks the first of a series of birthdays that bring one into full adulthood, for one. Secondly, it marks the day that a young person can legally drive in the United States. I have gotten to experience that, albeit very briefly, but Carl has not and I think, even if only subconsciously, he yearns to experience that for himself. This revelation only makes me want to try harder for him.

An then an idea hits me.

A _good_ idea.

I don't know how I'm going to manage it, but, for the first time, I am actually _praying_ we run into a walker or two out here. My prayers would soon be answered.

####

There's three of them.

Or so I count. The moans are unmistakable. The wreckage on the Interstate has slowed them down, but the three walkers are now within our direct line of sight. It won't be long before they reach us. Carl has spotted them too. Instinctively, he reaches for his hand gun and begins to take up the familiar stance of aiming in preparation to take the three undead out. I'm quick to stop him, however, putting a hand out in front of him while silently gesturing for him to lower the weapon. He gives me a skeptical look, but complies almost immediately.

"That'll make too much noise." I whisper to him. "It'll just draw more over. Let me handle this. You keep looking for tools."

Carl simply nods.

This past month has been just as much a phase of development for our relationship as the first month was. Ever since leaving Terminus, after all we'd been through there, the two of us have become much more secure in how we deal with outside threats. As a duo, we're well known, even in a group that consists of Michonne, Abraham, Glenn, Maggie, and Rick, for our lethal efficiency and teamwork. But what really makes us a good fighting unit is the trust that has developed between the both of us. Carl knows I can handle myself against such a small amount of walkers and trusts me to handle it. In return, I know that he will be watching my back like a hawk, even as he continues to search the surrounding vehicles for supplies, and I trust him to intervene on my behalf if things go south. If the situation was reversed, the same rules would apply.

And so, it is with this assurance that I approach the three cadavers. Upon spotting me, the rotting corpses hiss and moan with hunger. My hand instinctively goes to the hilt of my sword, which I draw in one fluid motion. The first walker approaches and makes a desperate lunge for me. I've become so used to killing these things, that I don't even flinch. My sword arm arcs out and I swat the cadaver, like a fly with a flyswatter, across its skull. Rotted skin and bone fragments tear from the walking corpse. Metal meets brain matter and, in that moment, the thing dies and drops like a heavy bag to the floor. I'm completely controlled by fighting instinct, at this point, and my sword arm comes up, just in time to catch the second walker across its lower jaw. Not enough to kill it, but plenty to stagger it. With a jab, the metal tip of my blade tunnels through bad blood and rotted brain matter. Another reanimation ended. I don't even bother killing the third with my blade. My leg comes out like a bullet fresh out of the chamber, connecting with the creature's kneecap. The weakened flesh and joints easily snap, causing the gnashing corpse to tumble helplessly to the concrete. With that taken care of, my foot comes up, and then down like a guillotine, splattering copious amounts of crimson nectar from the creature's head all over the surrounding roadside.

Just like that, its done.

I glance over my shoulder to check on Carl. He is bent over, rummaging through an old 1992 Ford Ranger, none too concerned with my decimation of the walkers. I know him, though. He probably waited until he saw the last one go down before he returned back to his own task. I then swivel my line of sight back to my kill. All three corpses are men. Its difficult to tell, due to their decay, but all seem to be in their early thirties. Maybe late thirties at the very most. But what I'm looking for is very specific. I kneel down over the nearest one, a large, bloated corpse which reeks of death in the worst possible way. Luckily for me, I see my prize—or one of them, at least—around the former man's ring finger. Time has worn on its metal, but, it looks like it will do. Sheathing my sword, I pull out the dagger on my waist, favoring its shorter blade and cut the man's dead finger off before sliding the artifact off of it.

A ring.

Judging by its position on his hand, and the fact that he doesn't seem to have anymore on him, I conclude that it is a wedding ring. Perfect. I can't wait to see the look on Carl's face when he sees this. But, despite my momentary victory, I have more hunting to do. The second corpse has a similar ring on his finger and so I repeat the process. Two items down, two to go. I stand and survey the surroundings. Carl has moved on to a fairly rusty sedan several feet behind me, so, acting as though I'm searching for the same things as him, I poke my head into a nearby van.

Nothing.

Just moldy old towels and a few empty beer cans.

I turn my attention to a sports car on the other side of the truck. Its here where my luck pays off again. This car clearly belonged to a kid my age or a little older. The assortment of school books, empty energy drink cans, and scattered CDs says it all. But it is the jewelry here that is most important to me. Specifically, two chain-like necklaces wrapped around the rear-view mirror. I quickly untangle them, casting a weary glance over my shoulders to make sure Carl hasn't moved, before setting to work again. At the end of each necklace is a large, golden cross. I quickly unlatch each chain and toss the crosses aside, slipping the two rings I found—respectively—in their place. I then furiously stuff my new found treasures into my pockets. A sudden well of pride condenses in my chest. I can't wait to surprise Carl. I already have everything planned out in my head. All I need, now, is the right moment.

I'll be sure to make this the best birthday he's had in sixteen years.

That's a promise.

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

Its night when the group convenes again.

Tanner and I turn up empty handed. None of the vehicles we've searched turned up anything other than dirty laundry and cracked CDs, which serve us no purpose. Luckily, however, both Daryl and the duo of Dad and Michonne have come through and brought both a radiator hose and some of the tools necessary to fix Abraham's Jeep. Unfortunately, though, we've lost the light, meaning we'll probably spend the morning hours repairing the damaged Jeep and then be back on the road again by mid-afternoon. When Tanner and I finally slip through the circle of cars, acting as a barricade, Tyreese and Sasha have already started a fire at its center and Carol is feeding Judith for the final time tonight. After putting away the supplies they brought back, Dad returns and, with the help of Maggie, begins putting together tonight's rations. Its some left over deer jerky Daryl made us after a hunting run a few days back, during one of our rest stops, and while it is certainly no birthday cake, I'll take Daryl's deer jerky over the canned food we have in our backpacks any day.

I'm the last to get my food, standing towards the back of the camp, watching everyone interact. Tanner, in particular, has my attention tonight. I'm not sure what is going on with him. He's been giddy ever since we went on the run earlier. Even now, watching him chat idly with Michonne as Daryl hands them their share of the jerky, I can see it all over his face. He's grinning wider than usual, cracking jokes more often, and it seems to be contagious. Before long, Glenn, Michonne, and Maggie have joined in. Our camp is usually pretty silent at evening meal, but tonight, we're much more jovial. I cross my arms and lean up against the SUV behind me, glancing up at the stars. I just can't put my finger on what has gotten into him. He's always happy, to a certain degree, but today just seems different. Maybe its because its my birthday. He has always tried to encourage me to celebrate, but I never saw the point. I stopped celebrating my birthday after the Turn. Sad as that may sound, we just never had the time to celebrate it. I suppose, over the months, totally in two years worth of apocalyptic chaos, I've just gotten use to the way things were.

But Tanner is not one to give up.

"Hey there," his voice rouses me from gazing at the stars and back to reality. "Aren't you hungry?"

He stretches out his hand, holding a fairly large cut of the tough jerky, and I take it rather thankfully.

"Thanks." I reply.

"Something on your mind?" he backs up against the SUV, directly next to me, and begins hungrily munching away at his own dinner. It never ceases to amuse me how food seems to affect him. He never can quite get enough.

I shake my head at him, "Nothing important."

He nods, accepting this response, "Your dad says we should make it to Greensboro tomorrow. He thinks we can switch Interstates there and make a beeline for D.C. Shouldn't be much longer, at this rate. If the roads aren't significantly jammed, Greensboro to D.C. is only a four hour drive."

I nod this time, "I wonder if this will really work." I suddenly say. "You think Eugene can really stop this thing?"

He swallows the bite he's been chewing on and glances up towards the black velvet sky, expression suddenly becoming thoughtful and serious, "To be honest," he begins. "I have no clue. It sounds too good to be true, but at the same time, its all we have to go on."

"Just like Terminus." I reply, voice trailing off.

His gaze immediately snaps to me, "You're right." he says. "But we won't have the wool so easily pulled over our eyes this time. After all, we're not looking for a safe-haven this time. Just answers."

I know he's right, but I distrust this situation intensely. We have no idea what is waiting for us in Washington. Eugene is the only one who has had contact—via his radio—with anyone in the capitol and its been weeks since he last made contact. For all we know, the city has been overrun, or something even worse has happened. I shutter to think of another Governor or even another Gareth waiting for us at the end of this month-long journey we've endured. There was more, of course. I miss Georgia. I never thought I would, but home is home, and the world is so different outside its borders. Internally, I wonder if this is how Tanner felt when the outbreak first started. Alone in an alien state, too far out to go back home, and nothing left to do but keep moving.

"Hey," he snaps me again from my train of thought.

The surroundings have changed somewhat.

While I was in a daze, Dad has put out the campfire, and everyone has begun clambering into their vehicles for a night of sleep. I have nothing but the stars and the moonlight illuminating my environment, allowing me to see Tanner in its eerie nighttime glow.

"You sure everything is alright?" he asks worriedly as we climb into the back of the SUV.

"Yeah," I lie. "Everything is fine."

By this point I should know that lying to him is futile. He truly knows me—better than Dad, better than Michonne, better than even Mom did. I could convince them with a like, though Michonne was a little bit harder to sell to. Tanner, though? There was no chance. Just looking at him now, I already know he knows that something is up. But, strangely, he doesn't seem too worried about it. Almost as though he has a plan to deal with it. Dad and I strap Judith into her car seat, where she sleeps, and Michonne climbs in, stretching out on the middle bench of the car, as usual. We say our good nights and its not long after that and the steady snores of the two adults fill the confined space of the cab. Tanner and I are wide awake, though, as usual. We stay that way for almost an hour, simply laying next to one another on the back bench next to Judith. Neither of us say anything, lest we wake the others, but both of us know sleep is far off. Eventually, however, Tanner stirs; sitting straight up and surveying the cab.

"What is it?" I whisper alarmed.

"Come with me." he whispers back as be places his hand on the door handle.

I'm quick to stop him, "What are you doing?!" I hiss.

"Don't worry about it." he whispers back. "Just follow my lead and stay quiet."

Without waiting for any response from me, Tanner carefully pulls the lever, popping the door open. Its just quiet enough not to alert anyone. Of anyone in the car, I'm most concerned about waking Judith. If she wakes up, she'll start crying, and then _everybody_ will wake up. Nevertheless, Tanner manages to easily slip out of the car, in part due to his thin frame. From outside, he frantically waves for me to follow him. I admit, he's got me curious as to what he's up to. Tanner never suggests we sneak off together. Usually I'm the one doing that. So, curiosity getting the better of me, I carefully slip my legs out through the small cracked opening in the door and ease myself into the frigid night air. Once outside, I make sure to carefully, gently, push the door shut. Tanner guides me outside our enclosed camp and back towards the abandoned array of vehicles we scavenged earlier in the day.

"Tanner!" I eventually whisper, trying to get his attention.

He keeps moving, swiveling his head almost frantically, as if searching for something of vital importance.

"TANNER!" I hiss a bit louder. This brings him to a halt.

"What is it?" the sheer nonchalance in his voice is almost hilarious. As if he doesn't see how weird this looks.

"Where are we going?" I insist.

He grins devilishly, "You'll see."

Tanner spins around and continues walking. At this point, I have no choice but to follow. He leads me through the graveyard of rusting machinery until finally arriving at a fairly wide-cab pick up, laying at somewhat of a slant off to the left of the road. He glances around, I suppose to make sure if the coast is clear, and then pops the back seat open and gestures for me to go in. In the light of the moon, I flash him a curious expression. I have no idea what he's up to, but my gut is telling me that—whatever it is—its going to be a _long_ night. Shrugging, I relent to his request and crawl into the truck. Upon first inspection, the cab of this vehicle is in much better condition than most of the other's we searched through today. For one, it doesn't reek of dust and mold. Secondly, there is hardly any trash or old laundry laying about. Perhaps that is why Tanner chose it for whatever it is he's planning. As if on cue, Tanner climbs in behind me, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"You going to let me in on what you're up to?" I inquire of him, staring very meticulously at him.

"Well..." he begins, leaning up against the door he just entered from. "Its still your birthday."

I fold my arms, waiting for him to continue.

"Yes. And?"

My eyes shift to his hands, which have slipped into his jean pockets. Whatever he's been so giddy about all day, I have a feeling I'm about to finally learn what it is. Just as he begins to slowly pull his hands back out from his pockets, he begins to speak to me again.

"_And_," he puts extra emphasis on that word. "I can't let your sixteenth birthday come and go without doing _something_."

For some reason, my heart starts to beat faster.

Just what the hell is he up to?

"Tanner, I already told you, its fine." I insist. Its sweet that he cares this much about it. It really is, but I just don't see how we could celebrate it. Especially this late in the night.

"I know what you said." he replies. "But I did something anyways."

Heart pounding faster now.

"What?"

"Well, do you remember a month ago? Before Terminus?" he asks. "You asked me if we'd ever be like your mom and dad... Like Glenn and Maggie?"

Faster. Faster!

"Y-yeah?" Great, now I'm starting to stutter.

I remember alright. And I had been serious. He hasn't brought it up since then, though, so I have purposely avoided bringing it up again. Has he really been thinking about that over the entire past month? Guess I'm about to find out.

"I didn't give you an answer then." he goes on. "To be honest, I was scared."

"You? Scared?" I jest.

"You'd be surprised how many times I've been scared." he responds, suddenly rather serious. "Not just then, but, this whole two years of shit constantly hitting the fan. I started believing that being scared all the time was the only way to survive. But... this was a different kind of scared."

I frown curiously at him.

"What do you mean?"

He directs his eyes straight into mine. In the glint of the moonlight, filtering in from the outside window, the light catches his eyes perfectly, causing them to become like daggers, piercing into my eyes with incredible intensity. The very air in the truck has shifted from a joking, jovial mood, to a very serious, heart-to-heart mood. Its been awhile since we've been in one of these discussions with each other. I'm dying to hear his answer.

"I told you awhile back that I've never been in a relationship before you." he starts. "Its new territory for me. I'm learning things even as you are. So, when you said that, I got scared. Not scared to take our relationship to the next step, but because I wasn't confident I could be there for you like you needed me to be. I doubted my ability to protect you."

I'm speechless.

He really _has_ been thinking about this all this time.

"But I realized something," he continues. "Back at the church. I kept making everything about me. How _I_ was going to be there for you. How _I_ was going to protect you. And then we had that talk. About good and evil. I meant that, every word. You're a good guy, Carl. You've been to hell and back, but you're really good. But that's when I realized it..."

He trails off.

I can feel a large lump growing in my throat.

Somehow, though, I manage to push past it to get words out, "What?"

"I can't do this by myself." he admits, sighing rather loud; as if a load has just been alleviated from his chest. "That's what I realized. If we're going to do this—survive in this world, keep each other safe, keep our loved ones safe**—**it can't be like it has been in the past. Before, one of us always ended up running off to play hero. When you got sick. When I got shot. There are other examples, but I think you get what I mean. Back at the barn, after Nat hurt you, we made a promise. A promise to be a team, to work as a team, and I think we got away from that."

As I listen to him talk, I look down at my feet, remembering the past two months.

He's right, of course.

In fact, I remember having similar thoughts after Tanner was shot. I insisted on going back to Terminus with Dad to finish off the cannibals in Terminus. Even though I knew Dad could get the equipment to help treat Tanner's injury, I still insisted I go. I ended up feeling so guilty for so long after that, after I found out that Tanner had woken up and been calling out for me, despite his pain and suffering. I should've been there. But, instead, I felt like I had something to prove. Like rushing out to Terminus with the others, gun in hand, was going to save Tanner faster, somehow. Perhaps that's how he felt leaving me in that funeral home to go search for medicine. Of course, we needed medication then, or my illness could've gotten a lot worse, but—in the grand scheme of things—a lot could've happened while he was away. Walkers could've overrun the place, the bandits we encountered the next night could've broken in early and killed me. I wouldn't have been able to put up much of a fight in the state I was in then.

"Carl?"

His voice draws my eyes back to his—still glimmering in the darkness.

"We're a team, right?"

I nod.

"The dynamic duo, right?"

I snort a soft chuckle, "You make us sound like Batman and Robin."

He grins at this. "_Right_?" he insists.

I nod again. "Right."

"Partners in crime?"

At this point, he's just doing it to get me to smile. The truth is, we're all those things. He doesn't need me to tell him this. Two months of fighting hordes of undead, fending of the scum of the living, and surviving as best we know how has ensured that if we are anything at all in this world, its a well-oiled machine. A team for the ages. But, for whatever reason, he's pushing for one final answer, so I'm going to give it to him. Smile included.

"Yeah." I reply, mustering up the best soft smile I can give him.

"Well, then let's stick to it. Our original promise." And, with that, he pulls his hands out of his pockets all the way, and I catch a glimpse at what he's been hiding this entire time.

####

My jaw drops.

Are my eyes playing tricks on me? The objects in each of his hands are almost completely identical, with only some subtle changes. Both are chain-like necklaces, but its what's on the end of them that has me gawking. Two rings. The one in his left hand is silverish in color, the other being a faded golden-bronze. They're simple, circular rings, not all unlike the one Dad wears on his ring finger. Same with Glenn. My first instinct is to ask him his intention, but, try as I might, the words simply won't form in my mouth. I can only continue to stare. In the meantime, my heart is pounding so hard that I'm sure, if it gets any louder, it will draw every walker in the county. My next reaction is to look up with him, but once again, no matter how hard I try, I just can't speak.

Tanner grins, "Happy birthday."

Its simple.

Its sweet. And I feel as though I could pass out and go to heaven—if it exists—right this instant. _And_ just like that, my heart stumbles out of its usual rhythm, and I start stuttering like an idiot.

"Bu-But I tho-thought." I manage slowly. "Di-didn't you want to w-wait? Until we were o-older to talk about this?"

He shrugs carelessly, but I can tell he's just as nervous as I am, "Consider it an engagement." he says. "You're only sixteen, so I doubt your dad would approve of anything _too_ serious. But, when you're eighteen, things will be different. And its not like the wait will be long. These past two years of hell have flown by quickly. Two more won't be a sweat, especially considering what we'll have to look forward to now."

I stare at him incredulously.

"Besides," he continues, sly grin creeping onto his face. "You _are_ older now."

I don't know what to do.

Do I laugh? Cry? Hug him? Kiss him?

What is the proper reaction when your boyfriend suggests something like this in he middle of the damn apocalypse?! And on your sixteenth birthday, no less! Tanner is beaming. Clearly pleased with my speechlessness. I can only imagine that my facial expression must be priceless. I just can't wrap my head around this. This is actually happening! Two years ago, I was a scared little kid wondering if I was going to ever see the light of the next day, all while under the assumption that my dad was dead—killed in a gunfight before the plague broke out. And now, two years later, I'm sitting in the back of a truck, after having sneaked out of camp with my _boyfriend_ and he's gone and done **this**. I almost expect to wake up from this dream any moment. To wake up and be back on the farm, everyone still searching for Sophia in the woods. Or back at the prison for another long day of farming in the prison yard and staying up late into the night, in my cell, reading comics Michonne brought back from me on her runs. Or maybe I'd wake up in that godforsaken house Dad had fallen into a coma in. I'd wake up there all alone and the good dream would be over.

Instead, Tanner's warm hands touch my neck and I snap back to reality.

He has taken the initiative of placing one of the ring-necklaces around my neck. I make no move to help him or stop him, simply admiring him as he drapes the chained artifact around my neck. Finishing up, he then promptly, and more quickly, does the same with the remaining ring—except around his own neck, of course—and then he sits back, almost seeming to admire me. Silence fills the next few moments. I'm still completely speechless and he is just sitting back, watching me watch him. There's a faint smile on his face. The kind of smile you see when a patron at an art museum is admiring a magnificent piece of art and I know he's thinking that about me. Its written all over him. The darkness shifts around us as a cloud passes over the pale moon somewhere in the background. Suddenly, my stomach feels funny. Fluttering, almost like butterflies are trapped in it. Its a tingling sensation that spreads outward, spreading to my legs, then down to my toes; all the while my heart rate seems to continue to increase.

That's when I get the answer to my various questions from before.

I want to kiss him.

I want to kiss him a lot.

I want to show him just how much I appreciate his thoughtfulness.

That out of everyone here—which includes my father, of all people—he made an effort to mark my birthday in such a special way that, ironically, this birthday, in the middle of a world gone to hell, will be one that I will treasure in the bowls of my soul forever. Something in my demeanor must've caught Tanner's attention, because I watch as his smile fades, and—as the light of the moon returns—his pupils slowly dilate. He knows something is up. Just like he always does. Without meaning to, my tongue slips out of my mouth and I lick my lips, doing everything in my power not to just pounce on him now. And it is _hard_. In the month since Terminus, Tanner and I haven't done anything mischievous with one another. I think he used the word "celibate" a few weeks ago. With sixteen people in our group, one of whom is my baby sister, it is even more difficult than ever to sneak around, so tonight is a particularly momentous occasion. Our celibacy is about to end.

Right now.

I don't remember who moved first. Somehow, though, his hands have latched onto my plaid, button down, shirt and, before I even have time to register what the hell is going on, his lips are locked onto mine and our tongues are furiously fighting for dominance in the heated orifice of the other's mouth. But I'm not about to be overpowered. I may be small, but I pack a lot of force, and I demonstrate that to him fully. We're making out so intensely that it is fairly easy for me to shove him backwards into the more than adequate space on the back seat bench. He doesn't seem to protest. His arms come up around my neck, legs wrap around my waist, and the intensity of my kissing is pressing his head hard into the cushion. Somewhere in this heated, tangled mess, he bites the bottom of my lip—not hard enough to break skin, but just hard enough to cause my dick to jump in my pants—and then he slips off the bench, quite by accident, landing us both hard into the floorboard of the car; me still on top of him.

Our lips come apart, only briefly, for air, but that doesn't stop me from thrusting both my hands up under his shirt, sliding them upward—his shirt following. He temporarily unwraps his arms from my neck, stretching them to allow me to finish the job of slipping his shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly into the front seat, and then he's back to attacking my lips. I feel Tanner reach for the tender spot between my legs and nearly jolt when he palms it. Instead of jolting, however, I press into his hand, grinding my hardness through my jeans against him. If he hasn't figured out by now that I want this, he has gotten the undeniable proof with that one gesture. Sure enough, I feel the tightness around my waist loosen as he unsnaps the button of my jeans, and then I hear a familiar _zip _ fill the truck cabin as my pants loosen further. He's unzipped me.

Goosebumps breakout across my skin as he touches me even more forcefully, now just my boxers between his hot flesh and mine. It doesn't prevent me from feeling it though. The heat coming off of him. I know he feels it coming off of me too. This has been building up all month. We've both wanted it, but just haven't had the opportunity to indulge the other. Even so, something feels different about this time. Before it was like we would only do this when one of us was in a particularly frisky mood. Not this time. I want him to feel more than just me against him tonight. I want him to feel how much I love him. How much I care about him. How much all he's done for me over these past two months means to me. I want it to seep into him like rainwater and energize him. For the first time—and it takes a lot for me to admit this—I don't want just sex. I want to make love. The difference is clear to me now, where it wasn't before. Now I just have to show him.

A spot on his bare abdomen catches my eye in the moonlight. Our kissing stops and I quickly bend down to examine it.

Its his scar.

From where he was shot. Its the first time I've gotten to look at it this close. I rub my thumb over it lovingly and I can see him, in my peripheral vision, watching me very carefully. Grinning, I return my gaze to his scar. The realization dawns on me, suddenly, that his scar is in the exact same spot—only on the opposite side of his stomach—as the scar I have from when Otis shot me. Tanner and I have matching scars. How the hell did _that _happen? Pushing the sheer luck of that situation aside, I lower my head, my mouth hovering just centimeters over his scar. I let my hot breath dust his skin and watch, with great anticipation, as goosebumps break out over his own skin. I can feel the telltale hardness of desire, still trapped in his cargoes, burying into my stomach beneath me. It brings an unconscious grin to my lips again, and so, I stop teasing him, lowering my lips to contact his skin. I kiss his scar and then slowly, one-by-one, trail short pecks up his torso, across his neck and cheek, until I reach his ear. By this point, instinct has completely seized command of my body, and I move into taking the top part of his ear into my mouth—giving it a good, hard suck.

"Carl..." he gasps beneath me.

That's new. I don't think he's ever moaned my name before. Not like this. That only serves to galvanize me, however.

Surprisingly, however, he stops me from repeating that action; pushing up on me and then backwards, so that our positions are reversed—him on top of me, knees on either side of my pelvis, pinning me down. I raise my hand up to pull him down to me so that I can continue kissing him, but he quickly grabs my hand, pushing it back down, over my head: pinning it against the floorboard.

"Stay still." he whispers to me, eyes still glimmering in the moonlight. "Just watch."

Tanner wastes no time finishing what I started. He unbuttons his cargoes, sliding the zipper down in one fluid motion, and then he furiously begins to pull them off of him. Relief around my waist, I finish sliding my jeans off, kicking them underneath the driver's seat while he tosses his up front with his shirt. He doesn't stop there, either. His socks, shoes, underwear—all of it—comes off and without waiting for me to do so, he slips his fingers under the elastic waistband of my boxers and slides them down around my ankles. Just like that, the two of us are naked as the day we were born, all except for our ring-necklaces, which cling tightly to our skin. I'd be lying if I say he doesn't have me completely rapt, his handsomeness illuminated by the moonlight behind him. The feeling is like falling in love all over again. He doesn't take his eyes off me as he reaches back behind him, wrapping his fist around my steel rod. The warmth feels exquisite and I almost come in his hand right then and there. I squint my eyes and bite my lower lip, restraining myself with every ounce of willpower I have.

But the surprises aren't over.

Using his free hand, he gathers up as much spit as he can and blows a wad of it into his open palm, reaching back with it to replace the moist hand with the dry one. My nervous system nearly goes into overload. He slicks the hot, moist, saliva up and down my dick and the familiar tingling sensation from before is back, spreading in reverse this time: first from my groin into my legs, then up into my stomach—causing my stomach muscles to involuntarily twitch— and finally up into my chest. At this point, I can no longer help myself. My eyes roll backwards as the pleasure of it all rolls over me. With my eyes squeezed tightly shut, I hear him spit again, but this time I don't feel it on me. That's how I know what he's up to. My eyes snap open to confirm it, and sure enough, just as I get a handle on what he's doing, he positions my manhood in the soft crevice of his butt and sits on me completely.

"AH!"

It takes me a nano-second to realize that its my voice that cries out like that.

I almost hadn't recognized it.

Tanner's eyes clamp shut and a brief wince comes over his face. Its been awhile, as I've said, since we have done anything of this manner, so he's having to readjust to the sensation of having me inside of him. On my end, however, the feeling is indescribable. Warmth and moisture grips to me tightly. So tightly, in fact, that I'm rendered completely incapable of moving lest I come right here and now. Tanner takes the next several moments to adjust before leaning down over me, his nose brushing lightly against mine, lips hovering just inches above my own.

"I-" he stutters, heat from his breath brushing against my skin as he does. "I love you, Carl."

My heart swells.

Swells more than it ever has. More than the moment I saw my dad step out of that van for the first time in Atlanta, after weeks of thinking him dead. More than the moment Shane brought Mom back to the farm after she rushed off to check on Dad and Glenn. Even more than I felt once it finally dawned on me that everyone that made it out of the prison was together again, shortly after we all escaped Terminus. Not that those moments weren't full of immense joy for me, but because never in my life have I experienced the amount of love pouring out of the center of my chest and swelling there. Building up. Threatening to smash through and spill out all over the two of us. The feeling is so new and so fresh that, for an instant, I'm terrified by it. Swallowed up in it. Tears sting my eyes before I even have a chance to fight them back. How long has it been since I felt this loved, and loved this much in return? If I'm honest with myself, never is the only answer I can come up with. As if reading my thoughts, Tanner's hand comes down and tenderly strokes away the tears stinging their way down my cheeks. His smile stands out like the stars against the black sky, even in this dark, confined truck cabin.

"I-" I choke back a sob. "I love you too."

He waits no more.

Rhythmically, he begins to rock back and forth in my lap, sparking an electrical storm through the nerve endings in my skin. My body convulses, my back arching on its own and I thrust up into him, matching his rocking with my own thrusting rhythm, we fall into complete union with one another. There in the darkness of that truck, heat on heat, skin on skin, mouth on mouth, we're no longer just two teenagers doing whatever seems to meet our lustful desires. We're no longer a "young couple" exploring our bodies even as we explore each other. No. Its not like that at all anymore. Right here—right now—we're two lovers working together to please the other in the best way we have to do that. Everything is different this time. The way he's kissing me, the way we're moving in tandem with each other, right down to the tears staining both of our cheeks, there is love crushing down on both of us; re-energizing us as we grow weary and galvanizing us to go longer, more passionately. For a moment, I almost completely forget the dead have risen outside. That society is no longer there. That when we step out from this truck, we'll be fighting for our very survival once again. Because in this moment, none of that matters.

The only thing that matters to me is him.

Tanner.

The guy... No. The man I love.

Somehow, just the friction of his hardness against my stomach is enough, and he comes first. Hard. His orgasm rolls through and shakes us both. Tanner is trembling violently and his arms are tightly wound around my neck, his face buried in the nape of my neck as well. The spasms in his muscles travel all the way down to the anal muscles clamped tightly around me. The sudden jerking and increased pressure is enough to push me over the edge as well. My orgasm rocks me just as hard. Harder than any I've had prior to this. My hands instinctively leap from around his bare waist into his messy hair; fingers tightening around the long strands of brown. He gasps as I involuntarily pull against them, but that only seems to intensify the remains of his own orgasm. Then, just like that, it ends. Tanner, having completely spent every last ounce of his strength, completely relaxes, allowing himself to slip off of me and we curl into a sweaty, messy, heap in each other's arms—still laying splayed out on the floorboard of the truck. Neither one of us lets go of the other. We simply lay there, letting our breath catch up with us, as the tide pulls us back in...

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

It's well after midnight by the time Carl and I finally dress and slip back out of the truck towards the camp.

The air outside has become even colder since we left to come here, but it feels good against my still-sweaty skin, cooling me off with a heavenly breeze. Carl is next to me, tightly gripping my hand. Our walk is quiet, but we don't need to say anything. Everything that needed to be said was said earlier. Both of us have tucked our ring-necklaces under our respective shirts. I can feel the cold metal pressing into my skin. We've both agreed that, when the time is right, we'll inform Rick and the rest of the group of our decision to take our relationship even further. I already long for the day when Carl is eighteen, just as we've agreed, and I can truly call him mine. But, I suppose, there is nothing to stop me from doing so now. After all, in my heart, he already is mine. Body, mind, and soul. And that goes for me too. If there is anybody alive or dead I'm willing to allow own me at even the deepest level, its Carl Grimes.

"Tanner?" its Carl's voice.

His voice is still a little raspy and choked-like from earlier.

I squeeze his hand, "What is it, bud?"

"Are we gay?"

And, just like that, with only three words, Carl brings me to a screeching halt. My first thought is to wonder if he's absolutely serious. I mean, of course we're gay. But then it dawns on me. Carl and I have never applied that term to us. In fact, I'd never used the term around him, so its curious to me what has brought this up all of a sudden.

"Why do you ask?" I reply, my own voice still scratchy.

He bows his head in thought for a moment. "I heard Tara say it a few days ago." he explains. "She and I were talking and she mentioned having an ex-girlfriend. When I asked her about it, she said she was just like us. She said she was gay."

Backing up a bit, I know Tara is gay. She and I have talked about our relationships over breakfast on more than one occasion, since we're among the early birds of the group. Nevertheless, it has never dawned on me that she and Carl haven't talked about that and so it comes as somewhat of a surprise to me that he is hearing that word for the first time. Its easy for me to forget just how sheltered Carl has been on these topics prior to my introduction to him. In a way, though, I'm happy he's asking me. Tonight has been full of important events and this one is no different. He needs to know. He needs to understand.

"Well, Carl." I begin. "Strictly speaking, yes, we are. Gay probably isn't the term I'd use, because that technically means 'happy', but I suppose its associated with what we are enough to be a proper term."

"That means we like guys, right?"

I grin at his innocent question, "More or less." I reply.

"You say that like you don't exactly believe it."

I can always trust Carl to pick up on those things. Since day one, he's been quite the perceptive little bugger. Even if he doesn't say anything, he picks up on things rather quickly. That very apparent after the incident with Joe and his marauders on the road to Terminus a month ago. He's hit the nail on the head, though. I don't believe that and I'm about to explain to him why.

"I don't believe in labels like that." I tell him, giving his hand a second gentle squeeze. "Gay, straight, bi—like all labels, they only exit to put people in a box. In the old world, before the Turn, people defined each other with labels like those. And once you were labeled, you couldn't escape it. People would accept you or shun you solely on the basis of the label stamped to you. There is more to people than just their sexual preferences. More to people than just the pre-conceived notions we come up with about them."

"Then what are we?" he presses. "What are we to you? What am _I_ to you."

I turn my head slightly, just enough to look him square in the eyes. Those gorgeous spheres that I'll never get tired of looking into. My hand comes out of his and slides up to his face, cupping his freckled cheek affectionately to make sure his gaze stays trained on mine. Its important he gets this next tidbit of information.

"To me," I say. "We're us. And you're you. Tanner and Carl. That's what I see."

I lean in and we temporarily lock lips. Its a far less passionate kiss than the one we shared in the truck bed only a little while before, but it is soft and affectionate—appropriate for the moment at hand. We come apart and my hand slips back into his. His questions satisfied and with brimming new confidence in both our eyes, we set back off towards the camp.

The journey is entering its final leg.

Maybe...

Just maybe...

This time, we'll catch a break.

* * *

**A/N: Whew. That was a long 'un. I was planning to be done... an hour and a half ago, but I got so wrapped up in writing that I went past my deadline. Oh well! I feel fantastic about this chapter and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. A bit of Trivia for you all: Kirkman has stated that Carl's birth month is in April, hence the basis for this chapter, but the day was never revealed, hence why the date in this chapter is obscure. That being said, I have an announcement. Since last chapter, I have received feedback both over the reviews and in PMs that many of you would like to see a sequel to this story. While I'm still waiting on a few more voices to speak up and give their thoughts on this, I will say that I am in the process of drawing up an outline for what a sequel would look like, so if you would like to see one and haven't already spoken up about it, please do!**

**On to the reviews! I'm quite happy as there are several to reply to this chapter!**

**Obtained: Yeah, he really has it bad when it comes to injuries xD hahaha Funny you say that though. Eventually, he was going to get shot like Glenn did in the comics by the Hunters, with someone from Terminus shooting him in the leg/foot region. But I decided that wasn't severe enough to provoke the reaction in Carl I needed, so I upped the stakes a little. Because you know how much I love to do that :3 Thank you for speaking your mind! Sequel is probably going to happen, so look forward to it! :) Thanks again!**

**Guest143: Its something I've thought about. But if he losses his sword again, it'll be for good, and will have to be tied to a plot point. You'll have to see! :) Also, great question, because my answer will be helpful for others wondering what a sequel will look like. No, the zombie apocalypse won't be over. If I do a sequel (and its looking like they'll be one at this rate), it will take place in Alexandria with new conflict, villains, tons of zombies and new tests for Tanner and Carl. Like with this story, I'll include scenes from the comics to keep it connected to The Walking Dead storyline, but their relationship will be going a lot deeper and developed more powerfully with the additional conflict, similar to the way Maggie's and Glenn's was in Season 3. It would definitely be thrilling and action-packed, true to this story!**

**HunterArk: I had a lot of fun writing that reunion. I hope they reunite pretty soon into Season 5. We didn't get a chance to see Carl be much of a big brother in Seasons 3 and 4, so I'd love it if they'd show him in that capacity in Season 5. I think he'd make an amazing big brother. Sorry about your foot, though xD**

**HeadedCoffee: Yep! A lot can happen in 10 chapters. After all, we went from the funeral home to Terminus, in this story, in that amount of time. Thank you for the compliment! The two of them have definitely grown on me. I like how fluid and tight-knit their relationship has come to be. It really is a joy to write!**

**Youngblooded: Thank you and there is almost certainly going to be a sequel! Like I said, still waiting for a voice or two more to chime in, but, odds are, even if they don't, I'll go forward with a sequel. I have some good plans for it! And yes, you're correct. Carl looses his eye, in the comics, in Alexandria. _IF_ I allow that to happen to Carl (and it has crossed my mind, believe me lol) I will happen in the sequel; not this one; though.**

**Harukasa: Hello! That is probably one of the most awesome things I've heard since I began this story. Mission accomplished! Carl is a wonderful character, my favorite right alongside Michonne, and so I'm happy that this story has given you such appreciation for him that you'd name him one of your favorites after reading this. That really warms an author's heart to hear! :) I'm glad you think these characters are staying in-character. I do my utmost best to convey their personalities as truly as I possibly can. Accuracy is important to me and one of my goals, writing this story, is to make you feel like you're watching an episode of The Walking Dead, complete with correct interpretations of the characters. I'm glad you've found this to be the case for you! It really touches me you wish Tanner could be in the show. I certainly would like to see Carl have a male friend. Michonne is a really awesome friend for him to have, but Carl hasn't had any real guy friends, besides the small interactions he had here and there with Patrick. Tanner would certainly be a good one for him. Nevertheless, I'm glad we get to live out that possibility in this story! Personally, I enjoy writing them together. They flow quite well together and I'm very pleased my readers, yourself included, find that they match each other so well. Thank you for reading and stay tuned! There's a lot more to come :)**

**walkingdeadfan90: Thanks! :) To answer your question, the story is based primarily on the TV series. The characters are all their TV series incarnations and the first half of this story took place in a slightly modified version of Season 4. That said, I do include scenes from the comics. A few off the top of my head, Rick's confrontation with Gareth is very similar to how Rick confronts the leader of the Hunters in the comics. The way Rick goes back to finish off Terminus is similar to how he insisted they exterminate the Hunters. And, more recently, the trip towards D.C. is something they do in the comics. Other than the references to both series, though, this story entirely comes from my head!_  
_**

**That's probably the most reviews I've had for a chapter yet! Thank all of you so much for your comments, support, and reviews! I do so enjoy hearing from all of you! There is still nine more chapters to go (and a possible epilogue, bringing that total to 10) so stay tuned as we continue on the road to Washington with our favorite band of zombie killers xD**

**See you all next chapter!**

**Later!**


	32. The Tearing

"I don't like this."

Its me and I'm being about as truthful as I can.

Our convoy of survivors has come to a stop just outside the signs announcing the Greensboro city limits. The city skyline looms ominously, like a bad omen, in the distance. We've stopped to scout out the outsides of the city—a habit we'd gotten into after the deception at Terminus—checking for walkers and people alike. A bad feeling is gripping my gut. Up until now, we've purposely avoided the formerly large population areas for obvious reasons. They tend to be fairly large red zones where herds have already formed and grown massive. But, in this case, there may not be a choice to avoid the city. Both Rick and Abraham are convinced that Greensboro is the quickest way to punch through to the border of the State of Virginia—the last state standing between our group and Washington D.C. If we can manage to make it through, barring any other interruptions, we can make a straight beeline for Washington and be there in a little over four hours. Our month long journey will finally be at an end. The only other option is to go around the city, find a new route, and take that through the countryside. Doing that, however, could mean days, weeks, or even another month of unnecessary travel. Either way, I'm not liking the odds.

"I haven't seen any walkers." Daryl notes.

"If a herd formed," Rick says. "It could be long gone. The outbreak started two years ago. They've had plenty of time to clear out of the city."

"That's one way to look at it." I argue. "But say they haven't cleared out. Say there are thousands of those things in there. What do we do if we get trapped?"

Rick regards me with a hardened expression.

I've become more comfortable around Rick over the past month, even as he has become more comfortable around me. This new found comfort has given me a rise in confidence, enough so that I will speak my mind when I think something else needs considering. And this certainly needs considering. We have sixteen people in our group, fifteen of which are capable of putting up a fight, but no matter how skilled we are or what kind of weapons we pack, there is just no way we'd stand a chance against an entire army of undead.

"We have to punch through." Abraham speaks up. "Our salvation—that of the entire human species—is four hours away on the other side of that shithole. We've dicked around long enough. Its time to go for the home run."

"As much as I hate to disagree, Tanner." its Michonne. "They're right. Pushing through is our best chance. If we go around, the countryside will be more dangerous, not to mention all the time we'll waste."

I relent.

I know when I'm beaten and I also know what they're thinking. We're all tired. We've been on the road for so long. If Washington is as safe as it sounds, there is a chance we can finally get some rest.

"Alright," I nod. "So be it."

Rick claps me a cross the shoulder—a friendly gesture. He knows that I am worried and was only voicing that concern. With that, we turn around and begin making preparations to head into the city. Upon returning to the vehicles, I quickly locate Carl standing near Carol, watching her feed Judith her afternoon meal. I greet Carol and then give Judith a smile. Carl, on the other hand, I give a much more personal greeting to. Yesterday's events have changed the air of our relationship in a very positive manner. Its not even been a full twenty-four hours since then and yet we both break out into foolish grins whenever we see the other: just like Carl is doing now as I step around behind him, resting my hands on both of his shoulders before leaning in and giving him a greeting kiss on the cheek.

"Hey." he says, returning his smiling gaze to his baby sister.

"Hey." I reply, smiling equally widely.

"What's the verdict?" Carol speaks up, ignoring our flirting mannerisms. "We going to go around or push through?"

"Rick says we go through." I reply, all the while joining Carl in making funny faces at Judith. She seems immensely amused by the show we're putting on for her. "We're close and Abraham is really anxious about time."

"Its for the best." Carol replies, rocking Judith ever so gently in her arms. "We can't keep running, Tanner." I glance up at her, meeting her gaze at the sound of my name. She's mentioning me because of my obvious concern over the situation. "Eventually," she continues. "We're going to have to accept the fact that facing the dead is part of living now. Hiding only prolongs what inevitably always happens."

Carol is a lot wiser than she looks.

The woman that she used to be—the abused, submissive, often emotionally compromised housewife—has long been replaced by a strong, wise, and very emotionally capable woman. I'd only heard stories about the old Carol, but, hearing her say what she did makes me realize that the Carol she once was, and the Carol she is now are two completely different people. Carol values strength, not cowardice, and so it is to be expected that she takes Rick's side of the matter. Pushing through the city truly seems to be our only option anyways, no matter how I slice it. Rick and Abraham interrupt our conversation as they approach the rest of us, gravel crunching beneath their boots as they fix their sights on Eugene, who is sitting on the edge of the Jeep, staring idly into space.

"Eugene," Rick says. "When's the last time you talked to the people in Washington?"

Eugene shrugs, "About a day or two ago. Why?"

"If we manage to clear Greensboro, we'll make it to Washington today." Rick replies. "We thought it might be a good idea to check in with them."

Eugene suddenly gets defensive, drawing all of our attentions' to the conversation unfolding, "No!" he insists. "We should be trying to conserve the battery left in the radio for when we're sure we're almost there. At least until we've cleared the city for certain."

"How much battery do we need, exactly?" Rick chuckles, not at all alarmed by Eugene's strange behavior. "We're close. We should check in."

Without waiting for further conversation, Rick begins to walk around the side of the Jeep.

"Where is it?" he calls back as he opens the driver's side door. "Is it still in the cab? I just want to turn it on real quick and see if we can get a hold of anybody."

Suddenly, and perhaps more surprisingly, Eugene leaps to his feet and rushes around to where Rick is. His expression is anything but calm. In fact, he almost seems panicked. By this point, even Carl can't focus on his baby sister. Everyone is beginning to get the impression that something is wrong and are all watching intently as the event unfolds before them. Just as Rick bends into the Jeep to reach for the radio, Eugene reaches him, throwing out his hand to pull the elder Grimes out of the vehicle.

"Rick, wait!" Eugene exclaims as he does.

"Don't worry," Rick replies, still not fully aware of the bizarreness off the situation from his vantage point. "I can—"

Rick can't even finish his sentence, because, as he attempts to—hand now firmly around Eugene's radio—Eugene shoves his way next to Rick, in the open cab door space, and frantically reaches out to snatch the electronic device from Rick's hand.

"I can do it!" the scientist insists, still trying to wrestle the device from the former cop.

"Dammit, Eugene!" Rick snaps, fighting against the larger man. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"It's delicate!" Eugene argues, stuttering now. "I cannot allow you to break it! Now let it go!"

Finally unable to watch this unfold any farther, Abraham, the former sergeant, steps forward purposefully. In the short time I've known Abraham, I've come to know him as a man of action. He never sits idly by in a tense situation for very long. Just long enough to assess the situation, come up with a response, and put it to use. Daryl is right on his tail. Though much quieter than Abraham in these situations, Daryl is always the first to back Rick up when he is in a confrontation of any kind, and is always prepared to come to the man's defense.

"Hey, assholes!" Abraham shouts above the fighting. "This is—"

Its too late.

The scuffle between Rick and Eugene results in Rick furiously tearing himself from the larger man's grip. As a result, however, he loses his grip on the radio, sending it slamming into the asphalt of the roadside. The impact is enough to forcibly eject the battery covering on the back of the old-fashion military radio, even as it continues to skid across the road towards a grassy crop off to the left.

"Fuck!" Abraham swore. "Its bro—"

"Wait!" Rick cuts him off.

I've already caught on to what Rick's looking at. The radio is laying on its face on the side of the road, the back panel laying only a few inches away. From this vantage point, it is easy to see the compartment where the battery _should_ be. But that's the thing. There _is_ no battery in it. Another bad feeling lurches at my stomach. There's no battery _anywhere_. I furiously scan the ground around the contraption, looking for any sign of a battery that may have fallen out. Regardless, no matter how hard I look, nor where I look, a battery is nowhere in sight. Realization hits me like a sack of bricks, but its too late to say anything, because things are moving quickly where Rick is.

"Where's the battery...?" Rick's voice is even, but there is an edge to it. A scary edge. A threatening edge.

Eugene, at this point, scurries over to the damaged electronic device, desperately trying to put it together again.

"I-It only went out last week! I didn't want to raise any alarm, but I removed it to prevent it from corroding the radio." Eugene stutters quickly.

I'm not buying it.

"You didn't think that important enough to tell us?" Glenn speaks up, anger rising in his voice.

Eugene says nothing.

"Eugene?!" Rosita snaps, her voice cracking with emotion.

Again Eugene says nothing.

"Wait," this time its me, my sudden baritone startling Carl, who is transfixed on the situation unfolding before us. "Don't tell me..."

"There never was a battery to begin with, was there?" Carol finishes for me.

I watch in horror as Eugene bows his head shamefully. More horrifying than that is the shocked look of realization that floods Abraham's face. It is the first time I have seen the older man stunned to silence. Rick's stoic expression turns to rage quickly. The implications are severe and we're all feeling it. If the scientist has been lying this entire time, then what was our journey for? Why did we leave Georgia? We're out here in the middle of nowhere, about to make our final push towards a goal truly worth fighting for, and now this? The bad feeling in my stomach turns into a vacuum of despair, as, despite the allegations weighed at him, Eugene makes no effort to clear his name.

"Answer her!" Rick barks.

Eugene clears his throat and looks up; first to Rick, then to Carol, then to the rest of us.

And I know.

I know long before the words even touch his lips. I know because his face is pale, sweating, his pupils dilated. He's _nervous_ and because of that his body has launched into a sympathetic nervous response with all the telltale signs of a liar. So when the two simple words hits his lips and slips out into the afternoon air, I'm not surprised, but nevertheless, it shakes me to my core:

"No. Never."

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

Rage.

That's the only word to describe the searing sensation rising up, snaking its way through my veins, making my skin hot to the touch. I feel the familiar heat warm my ears, nose, and finally my cheeks. The sensation of absolute rage even seeps into my eyes, causing them to seem to throb in their sockets. And I see red. Eugene**—**this newcomer—_lied _to us. All of us. My initial reaction is to be furious with Abraham and Rosita too, since it was them who sold us this story in the first place, but I can see Abraham's face out of the corner of my vision and he looks absolutely distraught. Seems he was deceived too. Movement forces my line of sight back to where Eugene is only to find Dad exploding into action. In a terrifying display of rage, my father grabs Eugene by the collar of his jacket and throws him backwards onto the concrete of the road stretching out in front of us.

"What _else_ have you not told us?!" Dad's voice is a snarl, like an angry lion advancing on its wounded prey.

At the same time, Abraham lunges forward, only held back by Rosita, who is desperately clinging to his arm, "Is that were your lies end, Eugene?!" the former military sergeant roars.

"Are you even really a scientist?" this new voice surprises me. Its Michonne. She doesn't sound angry—not like everyone else, anyways—but its clear that she is agitated.

Eugene is sputtering by this point, having at least gotten to his hands and knees, but his head is still hanging. Another lie is about to have light shed on it.

"High school science teacher..." he sputters.

"You son of a—" Abraham again tries to lurch for Eugene, only this time he succeeds, landing a forceful punch to the liar's face before anyone can manage to stop him.

Eugene takes the blow in full, falling backwards back onto the road. Blood trails down the man's nose and cheek, but Abraham isn't about to stop there. He lunges a third time, but just before he reaches the beaten liar, Dad steps in, putting his full weight in between them. I quick look around reveals that no one else in the group is making any move to intervene. Glenn looks absolutely livid, Tara is surprisingly stoic, and Michonne and Carol are watching with varying degrees of interest. Sasha has her arms folded, anger clearly painted across a usually serious face. Her older brother, Tyreese, seems ready to join the fray himself. His face is contorted in anger and betrayal, fists balled—ready at any moment to join into the violence taking place just a few short feet away. Behind me, Tanner's expression is a mixture of confusion and horror.

"Stop!" Dad snarls, drawing my attention back. "It'll do us no good to kill him. Calm down!"

"Calm down?!" the red-headed sergeant retorts angrily. "Do you have _any_ idea what Rosita and I have been through trying to keep this shithead alive?! And for what?! I've traveled across the entire country, seas of endless dead and even worse people, and all for a _lie_!" Abraham's voice is impassioned, loud, and very much livid. His face has nearly turned as red as he hair. "He told us he knew what caused all of this! That Washington was a safe-haven! People _**died**_because of him—because I thought the fate of the whole goddamn planet depended on getting him to those corrupt fucks at the capitol!"

"I—"

Eugene's voice stops the yelling momentarily and all eyes fall to him.

"I did what I had to. T-to survive." the shamed man stutters. "I'm not strong. I can't use my looks to afford protection. I'm no great leader. I'm not brave, or useful. I have only two things. I am extremely intelligent and... I'm a good liar."

I feel my teeth grinding against each other. It has been a long time since I've been this angry.

"I didn't have a lot of options." Eugene finishes. Suddenly, the mullet-headed man covers his eyes, and in just a few moments, his frame is rocked by short, violent sobs. "I didn't want to hurt anyone." he cries. "I was just scared... so scared. I'm sorry."

I immediately look to Dad, but the look on his face is anything but forgiving.

In a momentary collapse of his strong facade, Dad punches the hood of the nearby Jeep and storms off past the vehicles, Abraham hot on his heels. Dad's rage is palpable—traveling in waves and momentarily increasing my own rage. I am suddenly compelled to move and so I tear off after my father, surprising Tanner with sudden movement, and he immediately races after me. We're not the only ones heading after Rick. Glenn, Maggie, Tyreese, and Sasha are in hot pursuit. Carol hangs back with Judith and Eugene is now being tended to by Rosita. We reach the edge of the ring of cars fairly quickly and find Dad and Eugene fuming to themselves there.

Tense would be too weak a word to describe the feeling surrounding the two older men.

"What do we do now?" leave it to Sasha to get straight to the point.

"What do you mean?" Dad's voice is low and irritated, even though I know its not because of her question.

"We're this close to Washington." Tyreese interjects. "Do we still go?"

"What's the point?" Abraham spits, surprising everyone.

"Look," Sasha throws out her hands in a gesture meant to tell everyone to calm down. "I know we're all pissed and everyone has a right to be, but the fact is we're running low on food, the cars are hardly shelter and besides, gas is also running low."

"What are you suggesting?" Dad cocks an eyebrow, hands on his hips.

"We have to go." Sasha sighs, eyeing Dad directly for the first time. "The cities fell first which means people won't have looted them as badly as the the towns out in the sticks where there'd be less walkers."

"But that could be a death trap!" Tanner exclaims, joining the argument.

Anger from earlier is still lingering in me and Tanner's outburst strikes a nerve deep down inside of me. Carol's words from earlier come rushing back in. We can't keep hiding. Sasha is right. We have to push in, deal with the walkers like the threat they are, and if we can manage that, we'll have food, gasoline, and shelter. I've heard Tanner's argument over and over again. If he has things his way, we stay on the road, away from the population zones and then this utopia will magically materialize. A safe-haven. Some place we can hunker down and survive. But he hasn't seen what I've seen. He wasn't at the prison. We deluded ourselves into believing the same things he's talking about now and look how that turned out. The walkers overtaking the fences. The flu breaking out and killing many, many, of our own. And let's not forget the Governor riding a tank right up to our barriers and taking everything away from us.

"So what then?" the snarl escapes my lips before I have time to restrain myself. "We hide some more out here on the road?"

Tanner is visibly shocked by my sudden venom. Truth be told, if was thinking straight, I'd probably have been shocked too. But I'm still mad. Furious. Everytime we get this idea of "safety" something comes a long a ruins it. This time we allowed ourselves to get sucked into a lie by some stranger we never knew prior to Terminus and now that had been taken from us too. I wasn't about to be talked into more visions of "safety" in the countryside. Even by Tanner. We need to take charge of our situation and create our own safety. Not hide behind some pointless facade of a safe-haven that doesn't even exist.

"Carl—" he starts to say, but once again, anger seizes my chest and I snap.

"No!" I bark. My pulse is up. Breathing increased. Everyone is watching us now. "It always happens. _EVERYTIME_! The CDC... The prison... Terminus... and now this! Sasha's right. _Carol_ was right. We have to push through and _make_ a place safe for us. The cities have the supplies we need to make that happen. You have to wake up, Tanner."

His gaze hardens, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying look out there!" I jab towards the city skyline looming a few miles up the road. "There is no silver lining. There's no safe-haven waiting out there for us unless we make one for ourselves."

"You don't know that." he argues, voice becoming more excited. "The cities are going to be _full_ of walkers. More than we can handle. I saw Atlanta after the outbreak! Even for simple supply runs, the big cities are suicide. Sticking to the countryside is how I stayed safe beforehand and it—"

"Well then why don't you go back out to the countryside." Instantly, a voice in my head tells me I shouldn't have said that. A part of me consumed by rage and betrayal. The hurt that flashes suddenly across his face stings another part of me, but the rage burning just underneath my flesh eggs me on. "I'm following the others."

Conflicting emotions suddenly grip my chest and, in seething confusion I turn to dart back towards the cars. This time, Tanner makes no move to chase me, only Dad tries to stop me.

"Carl!" his sharp, authoritative bark rings out.

But I ignore him and push my way just past our circle of cars, disappearing from their sight.

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

The sudden range of emotions I'm experiencing is overwhelming for even me.

Confusion. Anger. Hurt... Sadness.

In just a few moments, Carl's demeanor went from us playfully making faces at his baby sister to a full-blown rage which caused him to lash out at me spitefully and venomously. I haven't seen this type of rage manifest in him since we met. Most of all, though, his words sting. He actually told me—in not so many words—to go take a hike. This is the same Carl, whom, only last night, was engaging me in a really sweet heart-to-heart moment, so his searing outburst cuts even deeper than usual. I'd seen him beginning to get angry—like everyone else—when Eugene revealed his lie to us, but I can't imagine why that anger would spill over like this. In a way, his seething words hurt more than Eugene's lie. I spy Rick and the others watching me.

"Tanner—" Rick starts to say.

I simply shake my head.

I'm sure Rick never expected his son to go off the way he did. Rick and I disagree about what our next move is, too, but Rick has shown to at least respect it. Something is bothering Carl, though, and whatever it is making him very intolerant of other viewpoints at the moment. In a way, I suppose, I should've expected this at some point. Carl's temper is legendary, even when it isn't directed at me, I've seen it directed at others. The anger he flashed towards Rick in our earlier days together coming immediately to mind. Rick relents, deciding not to push the matter. I sink back to the outside of the gathering and fold my arms. I'm not fit for company, but I feel that I should at least stick around and listen to the game plan. Despite Carl's hurtful suggestion, I still plan on sticking around, even if they head for the cities. I'm not that easily deterred.

"We should push in." Sasha says lightly. "We just need to clear a path through the city." She turns to Abraham. "Four hours is all it should take to get to Washington, correct?"

Abraham snaps from the daze he's been in, "More or less." he replies. "Barring we don't get anymore surprises."

Sasha nods, "If we can make it through the city, we can still get to Washington. Eugene... He may have lied to us, but we don't know what the capitol will be like. There may be a safe place there and even if there isn't, we'll be able to scavenge the place for supplies. We'll also be close to the coast. There's gotta be safety with the ocean completely on one side of us."

Rick takes a moment to think things over.

"We'll split into two groups." he finally says. "One will stay here and watch over the vehicles in case we need to make a quick escape. The other will go into the city and see if we can clear a route through."

Nobody says anything, but slowly, one-by-one, everyone nods their consent to Rick's plan. Its not a bad plan either, I admit. At least his way, we're not risking everyone's lives at once. Even so, there is a shimmer of a bad feeling still in the pit of my stomach. If something happens to them, it may be too late for anyone to help the group that goes in. The only other option was to take my original idea, go around the city, and find another route, but, by now, I know no one is going to accept that. Pushing through, despite the danger, is easier and less time consuming.

"Gear up." Rick breaks the silence. "We'll leave soon."

####

I'm numb.

Carl hasn't spoken one word to me since our argument in front of the group. I take a hint pretty easily, so I stay mostly to myself. Maybe if I give Carl some space to cool off, he'll come around and we can work out our differing viewpoints. I know that trying to talk things out now, while he's in the big ball of pissed off that he's been in since the whole Eugene incident, is pointless and futile. The group prepares to leave and Carl has volunteered to go with them. All accounted for, the following have volunteered to accompany Rick into the city to clear a route for us to push through: Abraham, Rosita, Tyreese, Sasha, Bob, Carl, Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne. That leaves me behind with Carol, Judith, Eugene, Daryl, and Tara. The only reason I agreed to stay behind is because Carol, Daryl, and I are the only ones that are both good with Judith and fighting off walkers. It doesn't feel right, though. I don't like splitting up with Carl like this, but I'm not about to tell him that. It'd just offend his pride and make him even more angry with me.

Nevertheless, as they gear up to leave, I make an attempt to at least speak with him.

"Be careful, please." my voice is a lot softer than I intend it to be, but I want him to know, somehow, that regardless of our differences, I'm still on his side.

His eyes are like daggers.

"Yeah," he eventually replies and then he storms off after his father.

Michonne sees this unfold. She wasn't with us earlier during the argument, so I'm not sure she even knows what happened. I get my answer soon enough as she approaches me, curious expression chiseled into her face.

"What happened?" she asks. "Everything with you two okay?"

I eye her for a moment.

Curiosity turns into concern. I can see it etched all across her face. She's never seen me like this, nor Carl react that way to me, so its understandable. Finally, I muster up the nerve to shake my head.

"He's mad at me." I reply at last. "I don't know what caused it. Earlier, after the whole thing with Eugene. I just...—" I sigh and skip over my arguing with the group over which path we should take, instead just skipping right to the point. "He snapped at me earlier. Somethin' is bothering him."

Michonne purses her lips, "And what about you?"

I'm silent. To be honest, I don't even know how to answer that.

"Well," she continues anyways. "I'll keep an eye on him. Take care of Judith?"

I can at least smirk at that, "Yeah. You got it."

Michonne turns to leave but stops suddenly, as if a thought hits her. She turns back to me and sticks out her fist, just a tad bit in front of me—enough to get my attention. My eyes meet hers. Once again, I'm reminded of just how reliable she is. She's never let me down—not even once—and it doesn't seem like she's about to let it happen this time, either. I sigh and raise my fist to gently tap her's in a friendly fist-bump. With that, she offers me a small, comforting smile, and takes off in Carl's direction. Maybe she can calm him down enough to where he'll be in the mood to talk to me when he gets back. Along with the rest of us staying behind, I see Rick, Carl, and the others off as they begin the trek towards the skyline.

Deep inside...

...I hope its not the last time I see them.

No.

I hope its not the last time I see _him_.

####

((**Michonne's P.o.V.**))

A twenty minute walk fills the intermission between leaving camp and reaching the outskirts of the city.

It is an uncomfortable walk. A walk filled with tension and silence. Next to me is Rick and next to him is Carl. Carl hasn't said one word and his expression is anything but calm. I think back to my exchange with Tanner before leaving camp. I've known Carl longer than he has, so I'm well aware of how explosive the young boy's temper can be when it flares, but, having not seen the argument the older teenager mentioned, I can't exactly say what caused this sudden outburst of negative emotions. Nevertheless, Carl isn't the only one who seems to be a bundle of nerves. The large soldier, Abraham, is also particularly agitated. Eugene's lie has put us all on edge, but none of us seem more effected by it than Abraham does. Rick seems to notice this, because he picks now, just as we pass another sign—announcing the Greensboro city limits—to confront the red-head about this.

"Still pissed off?" Rick questions in his thick Georgian accent.

"Yeah." Abraham signs, finally. "But not at him."

"Then what?" Rick presses.

"I think I've told you this before, Rick." Abraham explains. "Before we met your lot, there were others with us. All of them rallied with us because of the mission. All of them died. And all of that because I believed the mission to Washington was absolutely vital."

"I can understand that." Rick replies. "Its never easy when you have all those people relying on you. But if you continue to think that way, you'll drive yourself crazy. Its easy to blame yourself for the lives of others."

Abraham nods.

I take the opportunity to cross over around Rick to Carl, who is still deathly silent. In fact, he barely reacts to me walking up alongside him. I brace myself for whatever reaction I'm about to get and dive in:

"What about you?" I ask quietly.

"What _about_ me?" Carl replies, slight edge to his voice.

"Something happen between you and Tanner?"

Carl sighs, "Yeah."

"Tell me about it." If there is one thing I've learned about an angry young Carl Grimes, its that you have to let him tell you his side of things before you launch into any sort of advice or lectures. Anything else and he shuts you out entirely.

"It was stupid." he snaps. "I don't even know what I was thinking."

A good sign.

If Carl doesn't think the argument was that important, than it may be easier than I thought to get him to relax a little.

"Its just," he continues. "Tanner is always deluding himself into believing there is some safe haven out there. That we should avoid the cities and the walkers, like they aren't even there, and pretend to be happy in some safe place like we thought Terminus would be."

I nod, trying to get him to tell me more.

"But look at the prison," he goes on. "Terminus. Even now! We got doped into coming all the way out here for _nothing_. All of it was just the illusion of safety. We lost Hershel and T-Dog and Mom, not to mention we almost lost everyone else at the prison. Nearly got eaten in Terminus, _and_ Tanner got shot. We're safer when it's just us. And we're strong. We can handle the walkers. Even here."

"So, you're upset because he believes there is somewhere safe out there?" I try.

He doesn't answer.

"There's nothing wrong with being hopeful, Carl." I tell him. "Sometimes, that's what keeps people going. He's not completely naive. He lived on the road for a year and half on his own. That's not easy for anyone."

Carl shakes his head at this point. To an outsider, that would seem like a sign that he's not listening, or that he doesn't agree. But I know Carl. In his head, he's fighting with himself. A clash of ideals and morality. Carl has seen much more than any kid his age should in his short life, so I don't blame him for feeling the way he does, and getting angry about it like this from time to time. But at the same time, I know that's why I have to set him straight when it comes to times like this. Now, I just have to leave it in his hands. He'll eventually work it out in his head.

"Alright." Rick says, suddenly bringing the group to a halt.

I get a brief look at my surroundings.

This is my first time being in a large city since the outbreak. The cityscape of Greensboro looks like some alien planet. Nothing at all like the cities I was use to back in the good ol' days. Foliage and long weeds have begun growing in the cracks of the streets. In some places, the city looks more like a jungle than a former habitat for humans. Rusting cars are spread out everywhere. Litter and trash blow idly across the streets in time with the breeze drifting between the skyscrapers. But most unnerving of all, is a slight droning sound coming from somewhere deeper into the city. A faint, almost ghostly sound, almost as if, somewhere, somehow, despite all the odds, a generator has been left on and is still running somewhere in the city.

"We'll take this street." Rick says, pointing to the street on our left. The signs have long since rusted beyond readable comprehension. "Keep your guard up, watch out for people and walkers, and we'll find a way through here. Remember, no guns unless we absolutely have to."

With that, we're walking again.

Rick and Abraham take up the lead, while Glenn and Maggie hover at the flank. Carl and I walk side by side in the center of our little group, keeping our eyes peeled for activity. I must admit, it is unnerving that Tanner isn't here with us. In the two months since I met that kid, I've grown both used to and quite fond of his company, so his not being here has left an unsettling hole in our group formation. More bothersome is how lonely Carl looks without him. I expect this search to be more silence, just like our walk into the city, but suddenly, yet quietly, Carl speaks to me.

"I said something to him." he says. "Back there with the group. Something stupid."

Now I'm curious.

"What did you say?"

"He was arguing with us. With me. Said we'd be safer in the countryside, because that's where he stayed safe before... before he met us."

I nod, "Go on."

"I told him that if he felt so strongly about it, he should go back to the countryside."

That genuinely shocks me—and not much does that these days. Not anymore. Carl and Tanner are very close friends. Even without the intimacy of their romantic involvement, the two act like your average high school best friends around one another. For Carl to say something that strongly to him was a true testament to how tense this argument was. Or a testament to how angry Carl was at the time.

"I didn't mean it." he admits. "One time, back at Hershel's farm, I said something really stupid like that to Carol. When she told me Soph was in heaven. I don't know why I do things like that."

I purse my lips and gently pat his shoulder, "When you get back, you should tell him that." I advise. "He cares about you. He just doesn't want to see you, or any of us—for that matter—get hurt. He'll—"

I am about to say 'He'll understand', but a sudden halt in the group's movement cuts me short. It dawns on me that the droning noise I heard earlier has gotten louder. _Much_ louder. I look around at the others. Glenn and Maggie. Bob, Sasha, and Tyreese. Rosita. Abraham and Rick. Carl. All of them have their gaze fixated on a singular point in the distance. The same direction as the sound. I turn to see what they are looking at and I grow very still. My sight extends across the long pavement stretched out before us, encompassing several blocks of the city surrounding us. What I—and everyone else—have set my sights on is nothing short of horrifying. A split second of brain-numbing awe. Rick has his mouth open, but no words escape. I don't think he could form words even if he wanted to. In that moment, trying to put the sight unfolding before me into words, I flashback to the large herd we encountered weeks ago back when we were still in Georgia—making our way for the border with South Carolina. Tanner had mentioned that the number of undead we encountered there reminded him of of a scene in an old movie he watched once about the Roman army.

Well, if that herd was the Roman army, then _this_ was the whole fucking empire.

Stretched out before us, block after block after block, is what appears to a massive wall. But this isn't the type of wall you build with mud and bricks. Its only then that I realize that I was right. The droning noise from earlier had gotten louder, but it wasn't the sound of a generator still humming somewhere in this city-abandoned-by-the-living. No. It was something much worse. The droning I had heard—can still hear—is the sound of all the dead in Greensboro vocalizing in union with one another. Their sheer numbers defy all logic. I don't think I can even spot a single crevice in their formation and there is no end to them in my line of sight.

"Jesus Christ..." Rosita breathes, her voice a mere whisper in the wind.

Rick has unconsciously reached over and gripped the sleeve of Carl's shirt, as if prepared to pull him into a protective brace at any moment. Carl himself has turned pale as a sheet of paper.

"Rick..." Maggie hisses at the back of our group. "We need to go _now_!"

I'm just about to silently agree with her when—as if God Himself has decided to up the stakes—a clap of thunder roars across the city, bouncing off every single building in the downtown cityscape. To me, the noise might as well be the sound of a nuclear bomb detonating, because the effect it has is just as deadly. In that moment of deafening thunder, the dead—previously lurking, as they were not yet aware of our arrival—wake up and turn to face the direction of the noise. This puts us in their direct line of sight. For a moment, time seems to stand still. We don't move, all of us frozen in our spots by terror, and the dead don't make a move. However, somewhere in the decaying brain matter of the walkers spread out in front of us, the sight of a meal has triggered a chain reaction. And, like a tidal wave bearing down on a defenseless island village, the horde of undead take off, now roaring in ravenous hunger, in our direction.**  
**

"RUN!" Rick bellows over the deafening sounds of the hungry walkers.

I don't need to be told.

I've already started moving.

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Night.

Worried doesn't even begin to describe my demeanor. Their trip was supposed to be a quick and simple one. Find their way through the city, or find a dead end, and return. If they succeeded, we'd be on our four our journey to Washington. Instead, the sun set about an hour ago and, so far, there has been no sign of any of them. Daryl and I are hastily making our way back to the camp after having gone to scout out the surroundings to see if we could see any of them anywhere. Daryl is much less emotionally expressive as I am and the silent warrior doesn't say anything, nor does his face betray his true feelings, but I know he's worried. Same as me. When we return, Tara has started a fire. Eugene is sitting on the road, against the front of the Jeep. He hasn't said anything to anyone since the scuffle earlier.

"Any luck?" Carol asks, concern in her voice, as we enter the barricade of cars.

"Nothing." Daryl snaps.

I return to Carol's side, giving Judith a once over, before beginning to pace the ground in front of the campfire. I furiously dig out the watch Rick had left in the SUV—a former possession of Carol's—and use the light of the campfire to check the time. 7:43 P.M. A gust of wind catches me as I stuff the object back into my pocket. Its been thundering for awhile now. Ever since earlier this afternoon. So far, other than a light sprinkle, there hasn't been a significant downpour, but I know its only a matter of time before the clouds burst and send rain falling from the heavens.

"We need to give them more time." Carol insists, not seeming nearly as worried as she should be. "We were much too optimistic with how long it would take to clear a path through the city. Maybe they're waiting out the storm until morning and will begin again then."

Daryl says nothing.

I slump down next to Tara, by the fire, and draw my knees up to my chest. My heart is still throbbing from my earlier confrontation with Carl and now, mixed with fear and concern about everyone's safety—particularly his—I'm not in the best of ways at the moment. She regards me, a glint of concern in her eyes, even as the flames from the fire in front of us flicker in reflection inside of them. I hate to admit it, but a flicker of anger has ignited in the pits of my stomach. If something has happened to them, it will become a full inferno. Why didn't Carl just listen to me? Its not like I've ever said anything that wasn't looking out for him in the first place. I just didn't want him, or our friends, to get themselves hurt, trapped, or worse and now they all could be any or all of those things, and I have no way of knowing._  
_

"Shouldn't we go looking for them?" Tara finally speaks up.

"We wouldn't be able to do anything for them." Carol replies. "Its night and too dangerous."

Too dangerous.

As if night is the only thing that makes going into that city dangerous. Still, if Tara suddenly took off towards the city—which she won't—I'd be the first to follow her. Suddenly, a large flash of lightning tears across the blackened canvas of the night sky. The sky then opens up and a sudden downpour is dumped on us, quickly dousing the flames of our camp fire. I leap to my feet and quickly help Carol load Judith into the SUV, shielding the infant Grimes from the onslaught from above. Thunder roars now through the sky. Its going to be a rough storm. A rough night, but the storm is igniting more than a rush in me to get everyone inside the vehicles and out of the downpour. Anxiety now flares inside of me like a cancer. Slowly eating at my nerve endings, creeping up through my veins like death itself. Something is not right.

Rick would never just leave us here wondering like this. Especially given these weather conditions. Unlike anytime before, the fear, doubt, and worry consume me even as the rainwater consumes and soaks my clothing all the way to the skin. And then I feel it. Cold at first. Its a small sensation growing outward from my chest. Instinctively, I reach up to grab where the sensation is originating from. My fingers brush against a lump underneath my dampened shirt and I quickly fish underneath my collar for the source.

The ring.

The twin of the one I gave Carl the night before. My fingers latch around the circular object even as heaven unleashes another blast of lighting. For an instant, in that flash of light, I see Carl's face in my head. Smiling, happy, and then lost in the rapture of love—just like we were in the night prior—and I can't stand still any longer. I suddenly fling open the side door of the SUV, reaching in and snatching my sword out of my seat, slinging it over my shoulder. My gun is already attached to my hip in its holster, having been there since earlier. I slam the door shut and immediately take off in the direction of the city.

"Where are you going?!" Carol yells over the intense noise of the storm.

"I have to find them!" I shout back. "Something isn't right! Daryl will stay here! I'm going!"

"Tanner, don't be stupid!" she yells back. "You'll get yourself killed."

I stop in my tracks, rain pouring over me like a waterfall over the side of a bottomless cliff. Something about what she's said again makes my mind flash to Carl. Specifically our argument earlier. Like someone fresh out of the loony house I smirk. Then chuckle. Then, all at once, I break out into hysterical laughter. Thunder roars in the skies above me and I laugh louder and louder. How stupid have I been? Letting some dumb argument affect me like this. I let the anger and confusion that followed Eugene's lie and the frustration Carl was feeling reach me too easily and had let it cloud my vision. Argument or not. Anger or not. He can be mad at me all he wants. I'm not letting him go that easily.

"Tanner!" Carol pleads with me.

I start walking again. "I'm going!" I call back to her as I go. "If I die, so be it. A life without Carl isn't worth living anyways. If I find the others I will bring them back, I promise!"

With that, I completely tune out her shouting. Judith is in good hands with she and Daryl, so I can have a clear conscious. Waiting no longer, and with only the ominous flashing of lightning to guide my way, my leg muscles fire up and I take off running towards the city.

Into the darkness...

* * *

**A/N: Gotta love some couple drama, eh? Everyone fights every now and then, though, I suppose, but it looks as though our heroes have once again managed to get themselves into a huge shitstorm (with the storm part being literal xD). Major thanks to HeadedCoffee for the central conflict idea for this chapter. We've had a very lovely conversation ongoing for the past couple of days and my next couple of chapters are dedicated specifically to him for all the wonderful inspiration he gave me. So, everyone, comment, review, favorite, follow. Eight (maybe nine) more chapters to go! What will happen? Well, gotta stay tuned ;) Thank you all for your support and continued readership!**

**Until the next one! **

**Later!**


	33. Savior in the Dark

Wind and rain lash at my skin like the unforgiving tendrils of a cat o' nine tails.

The darkness of night is pervasive. I can only barely make out the rusted road signs—indicating my entrance into Greensboro—through the brief, yet violent flashes of lightning. This storm is by far one of the strongest I've experienced this Spring. The wind, in all its might, resounds off of the towering buildings lingering overhead, producing a low moan—almost as if the spirits of all the people who have died here are wailing in unison, begging for an end to the hellish reality consuming their former home. I do my best to shield my face from the onslaught of gusting air and rain with my arm, but it is doing little to help me. The sky booms with thunder in the distance, echoing through the city remains. Though it should have been apparently earlier, it suddenly dawns on me just how hard it is going to be to find anyone or anything in these conditions. Without the lightning occasionally showing me the way, I can barely see the own hand in front of my face and the storm isn't showing any signs of relenting.

Quite the contrary, its getting stronger.

Pushing past the outer neighborhood, I finally reach the towering buildings of downtown Greensboro. The skyscrapers look like immense tombstones against the flashes of lightning and they do little to offer shelter from the monsoon. A blast of wind rockets between the concrete canyons of the cityscape, hitting me with full force, and forcing me to throw up both my arms to shield myself from its intensity. The gust brings with it an overwhelmingly nauseating odor. A stench so foul, I nearly lose the small contents of my stomach right then and there. Its an odor I know all too well, but one I'll never quite get used to. The smell of decaying flesh. The smell of death itself. I've never had the smell blasted into my nostrils quite as strongly as it just was and so it takes me a moment to adjust before pressing on. My senses are on high alert. A smell that strong has to be associated with something horrible. Walkers or some sort of mass grave are the first that come to mind.

Nevertheless, I'm a man with a purpose. I didn't come here to admire the haunting quality of this storm-ravaged city.

"CARL!" I roar defiantly into the storm.

Mother Nature laughs at my pitiful attempts to shout over her, however, and my cries are consumed by the moaning wind and roaring skies. Its useless. One scream and I know that won't help me at all. If I really intend to find my boyfriend and our missing group members in this monstrosity of nature, I have to do it the hard way. By sight. Ear-splitting thunder smashes through the cityscape, building-amplified sound waves shattering my hearing. The ensuing lightning catches a nearby shop's window, and the outline of a human being appears in my peripheral vision. I spin to see the source of the image, only to find a walker lumbering out of the store's broken down glass doors. The blade on my hip slides out of its sheathe instinctively and its metal edge tastes undead blood as I swat the thing's head in two.

I continue to press forward.

The closer I get to what I assume is Main Street, the stronger the odor of death becomes. In addition, a loud droning noise is now ringing in my sensitive ears. At first I pass it off as some noisy byproduct of the storm blasting its way through the empty contours of the city's numerous skyscrapers, but I begin to realize that the wind howling is much louder than the droning I'm hearing. No. Something else is causing that noise. Another flash of lightning illuminates the street in front of me and I am able to make out three walkers lurking just off to my left. I make quick work of them with my sword, just as I did the first. Their numbers are increasing, as is the bad feeling in my stomach.

And then my stomach drops completely.

A loud _POP—_too short to be thunder and too loud to be any walker—rings out in the street. Then a second, then a third, and finally a fourth. All in rapid succession. I've been around guns long enough to know when I hear one going off. Someone is shooting. Things start happening very quickly from there. Ignoring the sand paper-like burning of the wind and rain lashing my flesh, I take off running in the direction of the sound. Probably the worst thing I can do, because another blast of lightning reveals what I'm running at. There is no way I can possibly get a head count on just how many of them there are, but I know this; the droning noise I'd hear was coming from them. Walkers. Hundreds of thousands of them. If I have to guess, I'd say the entire population of Greensboro is out on the streets—turned into vicious, flesh-eating undead.

The noise and darkness has hidden me from them for the moment. Panic seizes my chest, heart pumping furiously against the growing tide of fear seeping through my muscles. I instinctively dart off to the left, skidding and sliding through the growing pools of rainwater collecting on the ground into a dark, dank alleyway. Back against the brick wall behind me, I slide down into a sitting position, letting exhaustion run its course. The alley is, of course, no better shelter from the elements than the open road, but at least, for the moment, there doesn't seem to be any of the massive herd I just saw leaking into it. My mind immediately turns to the gunshots I'd heard. There is no doubt in my mind:

Carl, or someone in our group, was making those shots.

That means they're in trouble.

Much to the dissatisfaction of the screaming pain of exhaustion in my legs, I get back to my feet and begin making my way through the alley. With any luck, there will be a passage way that will allow me around the herd, so I can see who was firing those shots. If, that is, that person is still alive. I come to a crossroad between multiple buildings, where the alleyway meets up with about four others. Off to my right is a chain length fence and—in the blazes of lightning—I can see the army of undead lurking just beyond it. How easy it would be for them to plow down the simple barricade and flood the alleyway were they aware I was hear. Goosebumps break out across my skin at the thought of that.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Tanner?" I murmur to myself, almost unconsciously.

Another gunshot rings out somewhere outside the alley.

In unison, the horde of dead jerk in the direction of the shot and start moving again. They snarl and gnash in hungry irritation as they advance on their unseen meal source. In the momentary safety of the alleyway, I begin to run in the direction the monstrosities are heading. My view is temporarily obstructed by a building between us, but soon I break into another joining of multiple alleyways. Only this time, there is no chain length fence between myself and the undead. And this time, I see what they're headed for. A shadow blurs across my vision taking out the front-runners of the walker horde. Whoever or whatever it is has a limp. I can already tell that the walkers will soon overtake it, unless somebody does something.

I act without further hesitation, bursting out of the alleyway just as the thunder overhead booms again.

"HEY!" I shout through the storm's roaring.

A shadowy head snaps my direction, as does the collective decaying heads of about every walker in the front of the pack.

"MOVE YOUR ASS!" I demand, waving my hand furiously in my direction.

Whoever it is explodes into motion just as the walkers do. The person reaches their hand out for mine and I seize theirs without a second thought. Within seconds, we're back in the alley, only this time the horde is desperately chasing us, flooding into the narrow pathways of the alley like a tsunami. I quickly retrace my steps, dragging my unknown companion along behind me. A flash of lightning illuminates some sort of storage facility, door swaying in the wind, and so I burst through the entrance. Upon reaching the inside, I release the person's hand and quickly slam the door behind me. Its a quick fix, because I immediately feel the undead horde slamming against the door outside, frantically trying to get in to what they must see as a trapped meal. In the darkness, its hard to make out my surroundings, but I eventually spot several large boxes stacked up against a nearby wall.

"Get those and push them over here!" I bark at the shadowy figure catching their breath.

I can't see their face to make out what they're hesitating for, but eventually they comply, rushing over to the boxes and begging to slide them across the tile floor towards the door. Judging by the effort it seems to be causing them to exert, the boxes are clearly very heavy. Good. We'll need that weight to keep the creepers out. Behind me, the dead pound furiously at the door. I wonder just how many of them we've drawn out of the open with my little rescue act. Of course, the whole herd can't fit into the alleyway so I imagine only a small amount of their numbers actually came after us. My shadowy companion finally reaches the door and in a burst of motion I leap across to help them push it the rest of the way. With the boxes firmly in place, I finally allow my hands to fall to my knees where I can catch my breath.

And that's when I get the tingling sensation of being watched. Hairs standing up on my back.

"Don't mind me, I'm fine." I snap wearily at the stranger.

"Tanner?" a voice replies.

I freeze.

The voice is familiar, but with adrenaline still ruling my senses, I'm not able to make out exactly who it is I'm hearing. Its not Carl's. I'd recognize his voice even without being able to think straight.

"How do you know my name?" I reply cautiously.

"Its me." the voice replies.

And then, as if God above wanted me to see with my own eyes, a flash of lightning illuminates the room from a skylight somewhere in the ceiling of the warehouse above us and I finally see her features for the first time.

Michonne.

####

"What the hell are you doing here?" Michonne is asking me, concern and confusion ruling her voice.

I chuckle. She should be more concerned for herself. Not even two minutes prior she was seconds away from being horde food.

"Looking for you guys." I reply, which serves to jog my memory. My expression suddenly hardens. "Where is Carl and the others?"

I hear Michonne sigh.

"I don't know." she finally admits. "I got separated from them awhile ago."

"Awhile ago?" I repeat.

"That herd out there. Its more massive than you think." she says. "We stumbled on them when the thundering started around mid-afternoon. There were walkers everywhere. We started running but it quickly became apparent that running wouldn't save us. The last time I saw Carl, Rick was trying to pull him into one of the shops along the street. The horde cut us off."

My stomach drops for the second time that night.

So she hasn't seen my boyfriend since the afternoon. That could mean anything. A shiver of coldness and anxiety travels through my skin as the coldness of the rainwater seeping into my clothing finally begins to take affect.

"I heard gunshots earlier." I say suddenly. "Was that you?"

I can barely make out her shaking her head in the darkness.

"I heard them too." she explains. "Came out of hiding to investigate when I saw the horde coming back."

I nod and get to my feet. That's all I need to know. The gunshots could've been anyone. Tyreese. Sasha. Bob. Abraham. Rosita. Rick... Carl. Carl is who I'm banking on, though, so I begin searching for a way out of the warehouse. If Carl is out there fighting walkers, I won't let him do it alone. Even though, at this point, I'm pretty sure going out there will mean certain death. Almost zero visibility, a couple hundred thousand walkers, and the storm of the decade make for a very nasty combination. Behind me, Michonne stirs and I feel her hand tightly grip my shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" she insists.

"To find Carl." I reply honestly.

"No." she snaps, tightening her grip on my shoulder. "No more bullshit. It was dangerous of you to even come here. Out there, you'll be dead in minutes."

"I'm going."

"And what will you do when you get out there?" she argues. "You saw the horde. There are thousands of them!"

"So I'm just supposed to leave him out there?!" I'm become increasingly more animated.

"If you die, what good does it do him?" her voice is even and calm, unlike my own, silencing me. "If something happens to you, you'll hurt him more than you would just waiting until the storm clears."

Her words jab in the deepest recesses of my heart, "I doubt that..." I sigh.

"And why do you doubt that?"

I flash back to earlier in the day. I can remember the fury and frustration that arose after Eugene's lie. That had sparked some intense anger in Carl. Enough so that, when I tried to argue the other side of things—not pushing through the city—he'd snapped at me in a very uncharacteristic manner for him. Some of the things he'd said to me hurt. They hurt a lot. It could have been fine. If it had just been a temporary snap of emotion, I could've understood that. We were all upset. But when he gave me the cold shoulder after the group set off for the city, I knew that whatever caused him to snap wasn't just a momentary thing. A flash of lightning outside again illuminates the contours of our warehouse. She sees my face and a look of realization and recognition quickly spreads across it. An expression I've become all too familiar with in the past two months. Michonne just gets people like that.

"Is this about your fight earlier?" she presses.

I don't answer. Merely adverting her gaze.

"He told me what he said to you."

My head snaps upward.

"He... H-he did?" I ask nervously.

She nods. "About telling you to leave the group if the countryside is where you felt safe. Yeah, he told me."

"What _else_ did he say?"

"That he shouldn't have said it." My ears perk up more when she says this. "He told me he didn't mean it. He was flustered and upset. He spoke out of turn, but he didn't mean it, Tanner."

All at once, the knot that has been growing in my stomach ever since Carl yelled at me earlier today completely untangles. He didn't mean it. The pressure just got to him and he snapped. But he didn't mean it. The sudden flood of relief and happiness nearly bring me to my knees. Nevertheless, I'm suddenly snapped back into reality. He's still out there and I still need to find him. Now more than ever. At the same time, though, Michonne is right. Going out there is suicide. Unless... I suddenly recall a conversation Michonne had with Carl and I just prior to the incident in Terminus and that sets the wheels in my head into motion.

"I have an idea." I suddenly blurt out.

"What?" she crosses her arms, skeptical.

"Remember how you were telling Carl and I, just before we went into Terminus, about how those walkers you kept chained up kept you safe?"

Realization dawns on her face, as if a light bulb has gone off, "How did you remember that?"

I smirk in the darkness, "You'd be surprised how acute my memory is." I say. "Would we be able to do that?"

She's silent for a moment; clearly mulling it over in her head.

"You're not going to let this go?" she questions me. "Are you?"

I shake my head, "Carl is out there. I came out here to find him. I'm not leaving without him, Mich."

"Mich" (pronounced; "_Meesh_"). I'd only recently begun calling her that. The first time I did it, she gave me probably one of the funniest looks I've ever seen come across Michonne's face. Later on, she informed me that Andrea used to call her that, particularly when she wanted to garner Michonne's favor for an idea she had. Ever since then, I have used the term as a term of endearment as much as to illustrate the seriousness of a given situation.

And this situation is serious.

She sighs. "Between you and Carl, I can't tell which of you boys will kill me first." she grumbles.

"Please, Mich?" I plead with her.

She sighs again, unfolding her arms. "Only if we do it my way."

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

The rain just won't end.

As Abraham once more steps into the store we've sought refuge in, I can see the monstrosity of a monsoon still raging just beyond the threshold. Beside me, Dad stirs, rising to his feet. The others are seated in a half-broken semi-circle within the small room we've been waiting in. Dad approaches Abraham. We'd heard the shooting from here. Abraham had gone out to look for Michonne, but, judging from the look of things, he didn't find her. My suspicions are quickly confirmed when, upon seeing Dad, the soldier solemnly shakes his head.

"No sign of her." he mutters into the darkness.

"Damn!" Dad snaps.

Internally, I feel my heart collapse.

I'm not dumb. Though, I wish—for an instant—I could have some of Tanner's optimism. He'd be sure she was alright. I wasn't. I saw the horde. I saw it separate us. There was no way she survived that. The sudden thought of Tanner only sours my feelings more. What am I going to tell him? I've already hurt him enough with my big, stupid mouth. Now I have to tell him Michonne died? Michonne was like our best friend, but Tanner was particularly fond of her. The two of them are old souls. They get each other. I clutch my chest tightly. There is pain pulsating where I was previously numb. That's when I feel it. Just underneath the collar of my shirt.

My fingers tighten around it.

The ring.

The one he gave me last night right before we...—

Fingers tighten more and suddenly a new flame burns in my chest. I can't give up that easily. Tanner wouldn't give up on Michonne or me if he were in my place. Even though its hard and even though the odds are against us, I have to believe she's alive. For her sake. For Tanner's sake. For _my_ sake. I just have to believe in her for the moment. Until we have a game plan.

"There was something odd, though." Abraham breaks the uneasy silence.

"Odd?" Glenn perks up.

"What do you mean?" Dad adds on.

"It happened when I wash shooting the dead." the soldier goes on. "Something got their attention. Drew them into an alleyway just across the street."

"All of them?" I suddenly join in.

Abraham shakes his head. "Just some of them." he replies.

"You think it could be her?" Maggie chimes in.

"I don't know." Abraham replies. "But there's always that chance."

"Uh-uh." Sasha blurts out, shaking her head. "Hell no, guys. You saw the size of that horde. Okay? They're right outside. We go out there, we might as well serve ourselves up to them on a silver platter."

"So we just leave her then?" Tyreese argues. "After all she's done for us?"

"She's tough." Sasha retorts. "She'll find a way back to the others."

"You heard Abraham." Bob interjects. "If it is her, she's got a chunk of the herd on her ass. You really think she'll lead them back to camp?"

My fingers tighten painfully around the ring.

Back to Judith.

Back to Tanner...

"Alright, alright." Dad barks, silencing everyone. "Everybody just calm down. We can't just leave her out there. She's one of us."

"So what do we do, then, Rick?" Sasha snaps.

Silence fills the gap. Nobody volunteers any ideas. Even Dad is drawing blanks. But me? I have an idea. One that nobody will like, but probably the best option we have given our condition.

"Sounds like, what we really need, is a decoy." I speak up.

"Carl—" Dad begins to protest.

I expect this. "I'm the fastest. There are several ways into that alleyway. I'll draw as many of them as I can and then hide."

"We don't even know if its her." Dad argues. "You can't risk your life for—"

"She'd do it for me." I retort.

"Yes she would." he agrees, but I see the anger rising in his face. "But this is different."

"How is it different?!" I snap. "...Tanner would go."

For some reason, that one statement brings the entire argument to a screeching halt. Dad freezes, unable to come up with a rebuttal for that one. Its true too. Tanner would have gone after Michonne if there was any chance it was her. I've seen him do it countless times over the last month. Anytime we got in a hairy situation out on the road, Tanner stepped up to help. Just like he was back before Terminus, too. I'm not about to just sit here on my hands and do nothing, knowing he would've done something himself.

"And what do I tell Tanner," Dad continues, voice suddenly low and serious. "If you get killed? Think he'll like that?"

I stare back at Dad hard, "He'll understand." I reply with confidence. "He won't like it, but, he will understand. He'd do the same thing and so would you."

####

Dad actually relents to my plan.

And so here we are.

The storm has only increased in intensity since I was last outside. The rain pelts me like small stones, burning any exposed skin. This all to a backdrop of thunder and lightning. In the distance, I can see the lurking figures of the herd. They haven't moved very far since Abraham caused a ruckus earlier. Behind me, Dad and the others and nervously watching as I creep across the street. Over to my far left, I can make out the alleyway in which a large number of the walkers have clustered around. That must be the one Abraham was talking about. On other side of the same building is another opening. That's my target once I draw them out. Upon sneaking halfway across the street, I slip my gun out of the holster on my leg and prepare myself for the marathon of my life. Michonne is going to owe me if I get her out of this one.

I look one last time back at Dad.

He's come along way these past two months. Back at the prison, there is no way he would've approved of this plan. He didn't even approve of it now, but, I think he understands why I'm doing this. I return my gaze back to the walkers, brace myself a final time, and then;

"HEY ASSHOLES!"

Dad is going to kill me for that one later.

Collectively, several hundred cadaver heads swivel to put me into view. I feel my heart beat one last furious time and then my legs explode into action. I make a direct beeline for my escape route. At first, my plan seems to be working. The walkers I intended to draw away from the opening, allowing Dad and the others to search for Michonne unhindered, were following me tenaciously. All I have to do now is get to the second opening, run around, lose the walkers, and reunite with the others. It only takes about ten seconds to see where my plan was terribly flawed. Having heard the noise, several straggling walkers—not part of the herd—have begun to leak out of the nearby buildings, completely cutting me off on all sides.

"CARL!" I hear Dad scream from somewhere behind me.

Gunshots ring out.

I immediately start shooting. But its useless. I can see that I'll run out of ammo long before I put a dent in this horde. Maybe I can find a crack through. But no matter which way I look, there isn't an opening. I fire another shot. A walker is down. Even still, another rises up to take its place. Two more shots. The same result. I go to shoot again, only to hear the heart-dropping click of an empty chamber. My ammo has just run out.

"Shit..." I swear aloud.

One walker manages to get a little too close. I act quick, smashing the hard metal of my gun into its skull. The cadaver drops and I deliver two more blows to finish it off. It does the job, but I know I'm not going to be able to do the same for the rest. There are just too many. Two more come at me from the front and a third from behind. For a moment, I think I can handle them all. I kick the first in the shin, dropping it much like the previous walker, and then proceed to bash its skull with my gun. Unfortunately, that gives the third—behind me—a chance to get close and latch onto my leg. I jolt backwards, attempting to free myself form its grasp. But this walker has a surprisingly strong grip and I'm not able to fight it off. I go to kick it with my free leg, hoping that by doing so, I'll shove it off. But the second walker has finally caught up and now I'm certain I'll be bitten.

From the front or behind?

That was the only question.

I feel the hot, decaying breath of the woman corpse wrapped around my leg even as I see the lumbering oaf above me lean down to assist in the kill. I raise my gun, prepared to fight until the last breath.

_TH-WACK!_

The pressure around my leg is suddenly gone and I turn just in time to see the creature about to make a meal out of it fly off of me and roll onto the road. The source? In the darkness I can't tell. I can only see that someone has kicked the walker off of me. Abraham or Dad, perhaps? Above me, the lumbering oaf of a corpse now bearing down on me is suddenly stabbed through the head and drops lifelessly beside me.

"GET UP!" a voice roars in the storm.

Instinct takes over.

My hands slosh through a puddle as I use them to push me to my feet. A blunt metal object is suddenly thrust into my hands just as I manage to do so. A gun. A black gun. A gun I've seen many times before.

"Don't just stare at it!" the mysterious stranger barks at me. "Back to back, then shoot!"

I nod somewhat in a daze.

But I do what I'm told.

Spinning around, I back into the stranger's back and begin aiming for the walkers. A shot. One down. Another. Two down. Again. A third down. Behind me, I hear other walkers dropping. There is no gunshots, however, from the stranger who rescued me. I aim a fourth time and take down a fourth walker. At this point, I begin to notice something strange happening. The walkers seem to lose interest in us. Even though I'm shooting at them, the ones further away have begun to lurk off into the distance. A foul stench fills my nostrils, burning the interior of my skull and I swivel to see what is causing such a rancid odor. On cue, the heavens split open, blasting lightning across the storm-ravaged skies.

At my back, to my complete and utter shock, is Tanner.

Across from him is Michonne, with several armless, jawless walkers tied up by several long strands of rope. So that's why the walkers were losing interest in us!

"What are you doing here?!" I shout over the answering roar of thunder.

"What does it look like?!" he shouts back. "Saving your ass!"

"Tanner, let's go!" Michonne snaps.

Tanner doesn't hesitate.

His hand firmly grasps my wrist and I'm suddenly being pulled along behind him directly towards where Dad and the others are.

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

It feels good to be out of the rain again.

Michonne finishes tying up the walkers we captured earlier to a post just outside the hideout's doorway, warding off any walkers that might try to follow us. Rick doesn't wait to check on anyone before he's in front of me.

"Where's Carol, Daryl, Judith?!" he spits out at once.

"Relax!" I reply. "Judith is with Carol and Daryl. She's safe. I'm the only one who came."

The older Grimes breathes a sigh of relief. I immediately become aware of Carl watching me very cautiously from beside Michonne just a few feet off to my right. He looks at me softly. Its much less menacing than the looks he was giving me earlier in the day. To my surprise, its Maggie who actually steps forward, out from behind several old, empty merchandise racks, and questions me.

"Why did you come?" she asks, curious.

I regard her with a glance, "I got worried when it started storming. Glad I came when I did, too. Mich was almost walker food."

"Don't call me that." she snaps, playfully tossing me a dry rag she had pulled off of one of the shelves.

"Well, its true." I chuckle, beginning to use the rag to dry off as best I can.

"Is _everyone_ in this group crazy as hell?" Sasha quips off in the shadows.

"Do you remember the way you got in?" Rick questions me further, ignoring her outburst.

I nod, "Yeah. There are walkers everywhere, but, if we can make it through, I can get us back to camp."

"We should wait until the storm dies down." Rosita chimes in. "We've done enough for one night."

"I agree." Rick replies. "Everyone find yourself a place to hunker down for the night. We'll get back to camp in the morning. Hopefully the weather will dry up by then."

The group begins to disperse and find their own little corner of the tiny store to settle down for the night. Michonne approaches me, and, to my surprise, wraps her arms around me in a hug. She's soaking wet, despite her attempts to dry herself. Its a brief but kind little moment between the two of us. Michonne isn't exactly the hugging type, but, when she is particularly thankful, she will lower herself to giving one.

"Thanks for what you did out there." she mutters softly to me. "Go talk to Carl. You both need it."

I nod and give her a small smirk and then she's off.

I turn to face Carl.

He hasn't moved from his spot earlier. Instead, he is rooted in his place, awkwardly standing there and glancing at me out from underneath his soaking wet hair. The darkness makes it hard to see his expression, entirely, but I know what he hesitant about. I decide to ease his worry and close the distance between us on my own. I wrap my arms around him loosely. He, like Michonne and I, is completely soaking wet, but he doesn't resist me.

"I'm glad you're alright." I tell him, clinging to his wet frame.

He says nothing at first.

And then, slowly, he raises his arms and wraps them around my waist. His embrace is loose and I can feel him shivering under the burden of his cold and damp clothing.

"Tanner," he mumbles after awhile. "I—"

"I know." I cut him off. "Michonne told me what you said."

His head comes up and his eyes stare into mine. Gone are the angry daggers from earlier this afternoon. Replaced by those gorgeous cerulean jewels I love staring into so much. My hands come up on their own, swiftly removing his damp sheriff's hat, so that I can push his thick hair out of his eyes. Its such a relief to see my handsome guy back to his usual self.

"I.." he stutters. "I didn't mean it. I— I'm really sorry I snapped at you. Its okay if you're mad at me."

I feel my chest involuntarily jerk in a slight chuckle.

"I'm not going to lie." I reply softly. "I was at first. You know how much I care about you. It wasn't that I always want to run and hide. I just wanted to keep you and Judith safe. Everyone for that matter. I knew the city would be like this."

"You were right." he admits in a mumble.

"Of course I was." I snap in a snarky manner, trying to get him to smile.

He cracks a smile.

That's more than enough of success for me. But his expression quickly turns serious again.

"I—"

"Carl." I cut him off again. "I forgive you. You don't have to say anything else."

His eyes meet mine once again and, though he indeed says nothing, I can see them go from tense to relief in just a few seconds. Even if he'd never said it, I knew he was sorry. Everything about his demeanor said that. I'd already forgiven him anyways. I can't stay mad at him. Knucklehead, though he may be, he is _my_ knucklehead. If we really plan on being a couple that stands the test of time, we'll have our share of arguments and fights, but nowadays, those are but trifles compared to what is out there in the world. The things we have to face every day. There is no way I'm going to let a disagreement and a brief flash of anger tear him away from me.

I place my hand gently on the side of his moist, freckled cheek and lean in, pressing my lips against his. Its a clean kiss. No tongue. No hunger. No heat. Just love. Just forgiveness. I run my fingers softly through his tangled wet mop even as I press into our kiss more deeply. Just as quickly as it begins, though, it ends and we come apart.

"C'mon." I say finally. "Let's go see if there's a change of clothes in this place."

There was, thank God.

It wasn't exactly fashionable, but it was good to change into dry clothes. After changing, Carl and I found a corner in between two old check-out lanes near the front of the store. I'd found some small blankets, but it looks like, for the most part, we're sleeping on the cold hard tile floor tonight. Well, one of us anyways. I sit down first, laying the blankets next to me. The floor is indeed uncomfortable, but I can bear it for one measly night. I've slept on worse before. I spread my legs in order to give him room and then invite him down.

"C'mon down." I tell him. "You can use me for a pillow."

I can't see his reaction with the lightning, but he doesn't protest.

Before long, he's snuggled into me and my arms are tightly wrapped around him. At least one of us can sleep comfortably tonight. I'm comfortable just knowing he's here in my arms and not lost somewhere in this city without me. I toss the blankets over us, providing us with additional warmth and then snuggle back into him. He sighs into my chest and I can't help but smirk at him.

"Sweet dreams, love." I mutter into his still-cold and moist hair, pressing a final, light peck on his head.

He mumbles sleepily, "Night.."

Warmth swells in my heart cavity even as the fatigue from the day hits me all at once and sleep finally greets me with the sound of the rolling thunder...

* * *

**A/N: Didn't mean to take so long writing this one. Incident in the family came up and it slowed me down considerably. Nothing to worry about though! Everything is all good and I'm back on schedule. This one's a bit shorter than they've been lately, but I'm building up for another really large one here in a couple of chapters :3 Glad our duo made up. It was hard to write them mad at each other. Hard emotionally, that is, but I think it turned out nicely. :)**

**Onto the reviews!**

**Obtained: LOL I know which one you're talking about! Tanner is really crazy when it comes to courage. I mean, in his defense, he DID warn them not to go into the city. Twice. But you put his Carl in danger and he suddenly throws all caution aside. Love can make a person do crazy things XD In contrast though, speaking of the .gif, go look up the one where Captain Jack Sparrow is running away from the cannibals in the second Pirates movie. THAT my friends, is the major difference between Tanner and I. He is brave and a fighter... and I'd be running screaming my head off. Thanks for the review! :)**

**Vmbaby: Thank you! Sequel is almost a certainty!**

**Speaking of a sequel, I have a couple of announcements to make. While I'm certain there will be a sequel now, I'm still ironing out details, so if any of you have suggestions or ideas, feel free to PM me. Two people are already actively discussing it with me and I have my own ideas about how to go about it, but I'm open to suggestions!**

**The second announcement is that I will be starting another Walking Dead story here pretty soon (not the sequel I was just talking about). Probably towards the end of this one. It will be called "The Walking Dead: Deliverance" and unlike this one and the possible sequel to this one, it won't be a romance. It will be good ol' fashion horror/suspense/action and will feature an entire cast of OC characters, rather than your typical fanfiction about the main cast. So if you're an avid fan of The Walking Dead, I'd appreciate you giving it a look when it comes out! I probably will update it more slowly, as this story is my absolute priority, but it'll give you guys something fun to read. And you guys will have an advantage over new readers because it will have some references to this story that only you will get :)**

**I think that is everything! :D You guys are the best readers out there! Comment, review, follow, favorite and hang in there with me. We're about 7 chapters away from the finale!**

**See you guys with the next one!**

**Later!**


	34. Across the Border

A nudge awakens my consciousness in the black abyss of sleep.

I ignore it.

When it comes to sleep, I truly try my best to ignore outside disturbances whenever possible. Even two years of the apocalypse hasn't changed that. Not to mention the last time I awakened to a similar sensation, it turned out to be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Outside the fog of sleep, I can still make out the faint noises of the storm brewing outside. Though I cannot tell how much time has passed since I fell asleep, I must admit that I would think the storm would be gone by now. Nevertheless, the sound of thunder and rain were unmistakable and so, with nothing left to do, I begin to sink back into the comforting embrace of slumber.

A second nudge. This time lower.

I grumble aloud this time.

Perhaps whoever is causing the outside disturbance will take that and relent, leaving me to my peaceful rest. At this point, I don't even try to give much thought as to who it may be. Though Carl had fallen asleep on me the night before, that meant nothing. For all I know, he could have gotten Michonne involved in another crazy scheme of his in which I was the butt of the joke. In a way, it is my fault. I tend to set myself up for these things. But not this time. This time I'm just curled up and attempting to sleep in peaceful bliss and _somebody_ is screwing with me.

A third nudge.

At this point, I'm conscious enough to recognize where the sensation is originating from. My mandible. Furthermore, its wet.

Pretty fucking strange.

But, rather than waking up and discovering the source of the intrusion upon my peace—like any normal person would do—I continue in my endeavor to stop my mysterious torturer while simultaneously avoiding fully waking up. I roll over slightly and grunt again. I notice the weight that is pressing against me at this point and deduce that Carl must still be in the position I'd left him. So, that meant that either he was the cause of this, or he was being bothered just like me and I wasn't awake enough to notice it. Hell, for all I know, a walker could be eating me alive right now. Though, in my defense, if _that_ were the case, I think I'd probably feel pain. At least some pain. There is no pain present, though, just a nudge followed by a tickling sensation.

Oh right, that makes a fourth instance.

"Carl," I grunt sleepily, almost certain its him. "Knock it off."

A huff.

Bingo. I may have been wrong that time with Michonne, but there was no mistaking it this time.

Minutes pass. My attempts to return to sleep have thus far proven to be all but impossible, but I haven't given up. The storm outside is quite soothing—rainstorms have always eased me to sleep—and so I'm hoping that it will eventually lull me out of consciousness. Apparently Carl has other plans for me though, because, despite my numerous protests, he continues doing what he's doing. A fifth nudge on my mandible and, like the fourth, this one is oddly moist.

"Caaaarl..." I groan more forcefully this time.

What could he possibly want at this hour?

If it were morning and the group was ready to move, or if there was danger, I have a feeling he would be more persistent than this. That and he'd be trying a more persuasive method of awakening me. He huffs again.

"Tanneeeeer..." he mimics my groan, voice full of sarcasm and amusement.

My right eye snaps open, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. Its definitely still night.

"Somebody better be dead or dying." I grumble at the awakening.

With my eye open, I can now assess what he's up to. He's taken to straddling me sometime during the night and I'd be lying if I said his expression was anything but mischievous. If I was more awake and not aware of the other members of our group sleeping just across the room from us, this would be a complete turn on. Even so, he ignores my sleeping crankiness and bends down, delivering a soft yet wet kiss to my mandible. That explains the moist nudges I was feeling. I cock an eyebrow at him, wondering what on God's green earth he can possibly be up to.

"Carl." I say as I open my remaining eye. "What is it?"

He pouts.

I can only recall one moment he's ever pouted like that before. The funeral home. Its incredible, the reaction just a simple pout, such as that, induces in me. I'm suddenly very much awake. My eyes lock to his. He's still pouting and I wish he would stop. Every hormone in my body is flashing like police sirens and it is only growing worse by the moment. He shifts in my lap, pushing all of his weight down on my thighs, which his legs are very firmly gripping to on either side.

"Carl?" I manage to breath after a few moments.

He sighs and, finally, his mischievous demeanor collapses.

"I can't sleep." he admits quietly.

"Storm keeping you awake?"

He shakes his head, "Its about yesterday..."

"Carl," I cut him off. "I already told you. I forgive you."

"I said something stupid." he stutters. "I never should've said that."

"We all say stupid stuff from time to time." I interject. "Like that time I opened my mouth and challenged you to a race, knowing full well I was gonna end up flat on my ass. Or the time Tara assumed Carol was a lesbian because of her haircut."

Carl chuckles at the last one.

"Its still not the same thing, though." he argues after a moment.

"Look," I say, taking his dirty cheeks between my hands. "We're going to argue from time to time. And every now and then, one of us is going to say something ungodly stupid and hurt the other's feelings. We're human. It's natural. But as long as you remember that I love you, we'll get through each of them and come out stronger for it. Understand?"

He stares at me hard for several seconds before replying, "How do you always know to say this stuff?" he inquires.

I retract my arms and fold them in mock superiority, complete with a false smile of self-confidence, "I read a lot of books in high school. I learned a thing or two."

His stare lasts a couple seconds longer before collapsing into a fit of controlled giggles and an absolutely ravishing smile.

"You're such a dweeb." he finally mutters between chuckles.

I stick my tongue out at him before turning his own joking behavior around on him, "Seriously, though." I say. "What was with the whole kissing my jaw thing?"

He grins brilliantly, "Thought it would be a nicer way to wake you up." he says, tongue-in-cheek.

I sigh again, then grin back at him somewhat, "Remember that one for when we have a night to ourselves."

He rolls his eyes with a grin, "Yeah, yeah."

Carl cuddles back into me, still straddling my waist, and we make our way back to sleep.

####

When morning finally arrives, the roles are reversed.

It is me who awakens first to find Carl still sleepily clinging to me, legs on either side of my own. I'm certainly glad he's comfortable, because my back is absolutely screaming with soreness. I wince as I try to wriggle my way into a comfortable sitting position, which is only made more difficult by the one hundred and five pound sleeping lump of Carl in my lap. I yawn wearily and take my first look around the room. Daylight is pouring through the cracks in the boarded windows, illuminating the small shop enough to make out the various features of the store. The lack of thunder or the pounding sound of rain was an indication that, sometime during the night, the storm had finally ended. On the other side of the store, obscured from sight by the counter top directly in front of me, I can hear the others awakening. I set my mind on waking up Carl, but before I can even put thought to action, a very groggy Michonne walks around the corner.

Her eyes fall on us, stopping her immediately in her tracks, "You two made up fast." she observes half-awake.

I snort a chuckle, "Relax." I coo. "This is just how he fell asleep."

"Good to know _someone_ slept well around here." she grumbles.

I smirk, but agree with her.

Of all of us, Carl is the only one who had anything that could be remotely referred to as a bed. He would undoubtedly be the most energetic of us all today. Michonne staggers off to finish waking the others while I turn my attention to waking Carl. For a brief instant, I consider using the tactic he had used on me the night before, but, with so many prying eyes beginning to stir all around us, I quickly discard that idea. Instead, I gently shake him until those gorgeous eyes of his flutter open and he squints to see me through the sunlight. He grumbles rather displeasingly at the rather rude awakening.

"What, Tanner?" he snaps grouchily.

"Its morning, sleepy head." I inform him. "Time to get a move on."

He blinks once, as if processing what he's just heard, and then promptly lifts himself off of me in order to stretch for the morning. I have to have him help me get up, on the other hand. My back is unusually sore, as is my legs, so its a rather painful start to the morning. Eventually, however, I get myself in working order enough to reasonably continue on. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Maggie and Glenn "greeting" each other for the morning with a rather sloppy morning kiss. It does feel good that Carl and I aren't the only couple in the group any longer. It makes me feel less awkward about kissing him or being more affectionate around him in front of the others. As if summoned by my thoughts of him, I suddenly become aware of Carl's presence and turn to give him a proper morning greeting: a short, but no less passionate morning lip-lock. He grins at me when we come apart and then proceeds to place his sheriff's hat back on his head.

"Think they're still out there?" Michonne asks me as she returns from rousing Rick.

"The walkers?" I clarify.

She nods.

"No doubt." I sigh. "Its just a matter of _where_ they are."

"You're leading us today." Rick startles me, walking up behind us as he clips his gun holster around his waist. "We'll take the way you slipped in back to camp. Gather up Carol, Daryl, Judith and the others and then find a way around the city."

"You sure I can't just give directions?" I grunt. "I suck at the whole 'leadership' thing."

Rick half chuckles at that.

In my mind its true, though. I've never been one to stand up and lead and although all I was doing was leading the group through the city, it still feels highly unsettling to me. It doesn't take long for us to prepare. Everyone wakes up, stretches, and gathers their belongings from around them and then we gather near the front of the store. Its Abraham and Tyreese who peak out the door to check if the coast is clear. Other than a few straggling walkers, however, along with the two Michonne and I tied up the night prior, the streets seem to be clear.

"We can take out that few of walkers." Glenn whispers as we creep out of the store.

"Just no guns." Rick warns. "We don't want a repeat of yesterday."

Reluctantly and with great caution, I slide my sword out of its resting place on my hip. Michonne, with her sword, and Carl, with his knife, flank me. I don't know if they do it intentionally or on instinct, after two months of fighting by each other's side, but I can't help but smile that they instinctively have my back. Even after Carl and I's little tiff the day before, he's still more than willing to protect me. Rick gives the "go ahead" nod and we're off. Without breaking our formation, we easily take care of the walkers that manage to lumber into our path. Upon making it across the street, there is no immediate signs of the herd that trapped us yesterday, but I know its only a matter of time. If that many walkers have remained in this city for the entire two year duration of the Turn, then our little diversion yesterday wouldn't change their movement patterns.

We reach the alleyway near where I'd found Michonne after about five minutes of walking. That's where our first problem is encountered. While less thick with walkers than the night before, there is still a decent amount of the undead cadavers lurking around in the confined space. I quickly motion the group to the side, so as not to attract the attention of the small walker horde.

"Can we take them out?" Tyreese whispers.

"I don't know," I reply, carefully peeking around the corner. "There's a lot."

"Can you get a count?" Michonne chimes in.

I shake my head, "Not exact, but there are at least thirty of those things back there. Give or take."

I hear Rick curse under his breath behind me.

"Eleven of us." he hisses. "They still have the advantage."

"Rick," I look over my shoulder to get a clear view of him. "We need to get through here. This is the direction I came from. The only way I can lead us out of here is through there."

Fucked.

That's the only word I can use to describe what we are. Its only thirty walkers. Scattered, that'd be no problem for our battle-hardened group. But squeezed into a tiny alleyway, they make a formidable foe. One that will not easily be defeated.

"We can do this." Carl suddenly chimes in, giving me a knowing nod. "I've got your back."

I can't help but smile at him.

"We don't have a choice." Abraham, ever the voice of bluntness, says. "If that passage is between us and freedom, I say we chop those sons of bitches down."

"I'm with him." Sasha agrees. "Finding another route could get us lost, or worse, we'll walk right into that herd."

Rick sighs.

The worry lines, that have become prominent on his forehead, crease with irritation. Even now, after two years of being the leader of this group, calls like this are tough on Rick Grimes. He's a good man in that way. He never wants to risk the lives of his people if it is avoidable. But this time, he knows we're right, and that, while hard, this way will be the best.

"Okay, but stay in formation." he finally relents. "No one breaks rank. Cover each other's blind spots and we'll fight our way through."

There is no need for us to signal our agreement. We already know. This has been the practiced drill over the past month of traveling on the road. Though the confined space made it harder, we were still able to take our signature circular formation. Eyes in every direction. Weapons in every direction. If a walker got too close to our circle, the closest of us would take it out. It is the tried-and-true best method for getting through large amounts of walkers because it gets rid of all of our blind spots and allows us to work as a cohesive unit. The same happens again here. Almost flawlessly, at that. Rick takes the lead of our circular formation, Michonne to his right and Carl to his left. Carl stands on my left and Maggie to my right. The walkers are indeed crammed tightly into the small alleyway, but any that get close are quickly dispatched. After several minutes of this, with very slow moving as we advance, we finally manage to kill all of the walkers in our direct vicinity.

That's the good news.

The bad news is that I am now covered with walker blood. Glancing over, I can see that everyone is in a similar condition. Carl is in slightly less-messy conditions as the rest of us, however, as his hat shielded his face from much of the blood geysers created when any of us would strike a walker with our weapons. Upon seeing me, in all my gore-covered glory, he snickers. Clearly, seeing me covered in the worst smelling gore known to man is hilarious to Carl Grimes.

"You look like shit." he chuckles.

"Love you too, Carl." I jest back in sarcasm.

"Well?" Rick suddenly speaks up, stopping our playful banter. "Which way?"

I wipe a wad of blood from underneath my eyes, casually flicking it to the ground before getting a good look around me.

"That way." I indicate to our left.

Its not long before we come out into a familiar street. The first major road I remember seeing upon coming into town. It is completely devoid of walkers, just as it was when I was here the night before. Nevertheless, we're cautious. With no walkers in sight, I spend most of the journey towards the outskirts of town wiping drying blood off of me. Michonne seems to be doing the same. Tough though she may be, Michonne is highly intolerant of walker blood on her person or her sword. Besides the fact that the stuff smells like a rotting corpse, it also pretty much ruins clothing, and we're rather short on changes of clothing lately. Finally the buildings begin to thin and I can see the signs that mark the city limits. We could reach camp before noon at this rate.

"We should be able to find our way back without my help from this point." I announce as we pass the first marker sign.

Rick nods in agreement, "I'd say so." he replies. "Thank you, Tanner."

I shrug, "Its what I do."

"Let's keep moving." Sasha interjects. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss the comfy back seat of that Jeep and besides..." she pauses. "I don't want to wait around to see if that herd comes back."

In silent agreement, we continue down the abandoned roadways, passing rusting old cars, and several long-dead corpses. The morning air feels nice. Still slightly chilly from the storm the night before, mixed with the soothing heat of the morning sun. Only a few walkers stray into our path and those are quite easily dispatched. Before long, however, our camp comes into view and we all begin to relax.

That is...

Until we notice something very off about camp.

Very off indeed.

####

"Hey," Sasha speaks up. "I don't mean to alarm anyone, but, those cars weren't there before, were they?"

They weren't.

I couldn't make out exactly how many there are, but suffice it to say that many new vehicles were now occupying the same space as ours. Instinctively, our weapons come out. From this distance, its impossible to see exactly how many there are or who is in them, but if they're hostile, our friends are in grave danger. Carol and Daryl are the only ones there with any reasonable fighting experience and Carol is in charge of protecting Judith. Rick decides for an ambush and indicates for us to find some cover to creep up on the intruders. Through all the debris and wreckage, this is a surprisingly manageable task. Upon reaching the outskirts of camp, the group splits into two halves and takes cover in the surrounding trees and foliage. Our intention is to scope out the situation and attack as needed.

"Who's that?" Carl whispers to me.

Turning, I narrow my eyes to get a good look at who he's looking at.

I can now clearly make out five newcomer vehicles and an array of people within our camp. I can see Eugene in a similar position to the way I left him. He doesn't seem at all worried and is, in fact, still seemingly in the mopey mood he was in yesterday shortly after his lie was exposed in front of the entire group. In front of him is Carol, who is holding baby Judith, and next to her is Daryl. I can't see Tara, but it looks as though she may be in one of the cars. Our cars, that is. Like Eugene, though, Carol and Daryl don't seem at all bothered by the intrusion. In fact, they seem to be having a casual conversation with the men and women gathering in front of them. At the head of the newcomer group is a man with fading blonde hair and slight facial hair features. He looks to be smiling. Somewhat friendly, now that I think about it.

"What are they talking about?" I mutter aloud to myself.

I see Carl's grip on his gun tighten in my peripheral.

"Wait!" I hiss at him. "You might start something. Right now they're just talking. Let's just watch things unfold."

"If we wait, they could die." Carl argues.

"And if we shoot?" I retort. "They'll just shoot back. Then Judith and the others _will_ die."

Carl grits his teeth in frustration, but eventually he relents. I then turn my attention to the voices I can barely make out coming from the camp.

"We've been watching you guys from afar for awhile now." I hear the leader say.

"What for?" Daryl's voice is unusually soft for a man that is a strong and whose presence is very imposing. I can barely make it out over the howl of the wind.

"We're heading back to our camp." the leader replies, ignoring Daryl's inquiry. "Its just passed this city on the other side of the border. We take in survivors like you all if you can pass an... audition."

"What sort of audition?" I recognize this voice to be Tara and, sure enough, her frail frame emerges from the Jeep and steps into view.

"All in due time." the leader replies with a smile. "Now, will someone be so kind as to point me to the leader of this little group? I'd really like to speak with him or her. Whoever is calling the shots."

Noise comes from the other side of the camp. Rick comes into view almost immediately. To my surprise, he's alone. Knowing Rick, though, he's got the others covering him from somewhere in the bushes. Carol and Daryl seem genuinely surprised to see Rick, but, probably more so, are surprised to see that he is alone. As Rick's Colt Python goes up, pointing directly for the man's forehead, so does the man's hands come up, in a surrendering fashion. None of the man's entourage makes a move to defend him. That unnerves me. I can't tell if its confidence, on their part, that they can take Rick if things get out of hand, or if they just genuinely don't want to fight. Nevertheless, I'm about to find out, as Rick starts talking.

"Seems you'd be looking for me." he declares. "Who are you?"

"Aaron." the man replies. "I'm not here to fight you, or hurt any of you. See?" he raises his hands higher. "No weapons. I just want to talk."

"Talk, then." Rick snaps, though he doesn't lower his weapon. "I heard what you said. Why were you watching us?"

"To ensure you weren't dangerous." Aaron replies. "Now then, I've answered your question. You answer mine. You say you're the leader? What's your name?"

"Rick." Rick replies bluntly. "And you're going to be answering _my_ questions. All of them."

Aaron smiles, "Gladly. I said I was here to talk, didn't I?"

Next to me, Carl stirs.

"Should we go in?" he whispers.

"Not yet." I reply, my eyes firmly glued to Rick and Aaron. "But be ready just in case."

In the meantime, Rick begins his questioning, gun still raised at Aaron.

"Is this all of you?" he asks. "How large is your group?"

Aaron looks around, "This is just a few of us." he replies. "In total I'd say we have just under forty."

_Forty?!_

There wasn't even that many people back in Terminus! In fact, aside from the stories Carl has told me about the Prison and Woodbury, I haven't heard of too many survivor camps that number that large. At that moment, I suddenly pray that for once, we've struck gold. That this group will be different than Terminus and more like Rick and Carl when I first met them. Enemies that number that large will be far too much for us to handle, even as battle-hardened as we have become.

"That many?" Rick asks, echoing my thoughts. "Where? You said you had a camp."

"We're on the other side of the border in Virginia." Aaron explains. "Couple hours drive from here."

"If your camp is in Virginia," Rick presses. "Why come here? That doesn't make any sense."

"That's an easy one." Aaron perks up. "See, we're sort of recruiters, if you can really call us that. We go out and find people that need a place to stay, spy on them for a short time to make sure they'll... how you say... fit in? And then we approach them. Like I was telling your lady friend here, I've been watching this group for awhile now at a distance. You lot seem like a close knit sort of family. Great people. Seems that natural tensions broke out yesterday, but that's to be expected. The road is a harsh place. Looks to me like you guys are just trying to find a safe-place to finally settle down. So, as I was saying, I'm here to invite you... to audition for membership to our community."

"Forgive my skepticism," Rick retorts. "But you have a safe place and you're just off galevanding all over the countryside inviting strangers in? There's gotta be a catch."

"No catch, friend." Aaron replies. "A community takes work to sustain. Especially in these days. Every able body comes with their own unique set of skills, so we invite in who we can to lend us an extra hand."

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" Rick replies. "Look, you'll forgive me unwillingness to trust, but we've met more than one person out here offering safety only for it to be a death trap."

Aaron nods, "Understandable. Give it a day of thought." he replies. "My friends and I will stay out of your way. We'll meet here, say, same time tomorrow morning?"

Rick starts to nod, but as his head comes up over Aaron's shoulder, he freezes.

I cock my eyebrow at this. Carol and Daryl are the next ones to stop moving completely. Curious, I follow their line of sight. They're looking back towards the city skyline. At first, I see nothing but rusted cars, and endless abandoned roads stretching out across the pathway we took to and from the city of Greensboro. And then I spot them. Its like something out of a documentary on the Animal Planet, where locusts swarm and devour entire crop fields, turning them black as the night itself with their sheer numbers. Terror grips me even as I instinctively reach over and grasp the hem of Carl's shirt tightly in my fists. Had we made too much noise? Did they follow us out of the city? Whatever the case, like a swarm of pests descending upon a cornfield, walkers were pouring out of the city in droves. By now, everyone could see them. It will only be a matter of minutes before they are upon us.

"Tyreese! Abraham! Glenn! Carl!" Rick calls out from the camp.

That's all the invitation we need.

The entire group, which has previously been hiding in the surrounding vegetation, emerges in force and descends on the camp. Weapons drawn, we form up at the center of the camp. Why? I don't know. Its futile, even in formation. There are just too many of those things coming.

"What do we do?!" Maggie shouts.

Rick hesitates momentarily, "Get the cars ready. We need to get out of here."

"Rick, we'll never get around that!" Glenn argues.

"Then it seems we'll have to go through." In all the confusion, I'd forgotten Aaron and his people were even there.

"And how do you suggest we do that?!" Daryl snaps, voice full of venom.

"The old fashion way." Aaron replies. "Get in our cars and mow them down with gunfire."

"I thought you said you were unarmed?!" Rick hisses.

"Technically, yes, Rick, we are." Aaron replies, smirking. "I currently have no weapons on me, but it'd be stupid to come out here without some protection against the biters. We have weapons in our vehicles. If we work together, we might be able to kill enough of them to break through."

Rick hesitates again. Honestly, I don't see how we have a choice. Walkers that number that highly are just too much for a group of sixteen people, one of which is only an infant. Even with the five or six people that are with Aaron, our chances are slim, but they're still better than we would do if both groups fight separately. I understand Rick's hesitation at the same time. The Governor. Terminus. People haven't exactly been trustworthy to the group in the past. Trusting these people now may end up badly in the end. Or...

Well, either way, as I said, we don't have a choice.

"Mount up." Rick suddenly says, nodding at Aaron. "You try anything funny and you're going down too."

Aaron nods understandingly and suddenly, both groups burst into action, leaping into cars and firing up the engines. Carl tosses me a gun once we're in the SUV and we both proceed to roll down the windows. Michonne stands up through the sun roof and Judith is strapped safely behind us in the car seat.

"Ready for this?" I say to Carl, patting him on the leg as Rick prepares to drive off in pursuit of the others.

He eyes me from underneath his hat, "Yeah," he replies with a grin. "Let's mow these walkers down."

And with that, we begin our suicide dash towards the impending herd, alongside our now larger convoy of vehicles. The warzones were clearly defined. Walkers vs Humans. Modern technology vs primal instincts. Death vs Life. As we approach, I take up the gun Carl had tossed me and get the closest walker in my sights.

Then the bullets rain...

* * *

**A/N: So, I took the weekend off for Easter, as many of you must've noticed. Family arrived unexpectedly to visit and so I was much too busy to write much of anything, hence why the chapter is coming out today, instead of Sunday, when I usually do my weekend releases. Another short chapter, but next one will be the big one. :D Six chapters to go! Hope it was enjoyable :3 I couldn't throw out the herd that quickly, so one final confrontation with them, I thought, would be nice. Onto the reviews!  
**

**NOxONE: Thank ya much! And yeah, I was waiting for the right moment for them to have a fight, and this situation just seemed more natural. Like you said, no couple is perfect, and all of them have disagreements. Carl and Tanner are no different. I didn't want the usual couple drama (cheating, fights about true love, that sort of thing) so I went for something that was more simplistic, yet I still felt it went over well. I agree. It definitely makes the smutty scenes worth it and there is still one of those left to go xD Hopefully I can tie that all together. As to the OC's, it is sorta hard to put together believable OC characters, but my advice? Take bits and pieces of inspiration from people you know, use that as a foundation, and then build on it from there. If you kinda have an idea of who you'd like them to be or turn out to be, it makes it easier coming up with the other traits, realistically, than it is to just create them out of nothing at all. I'm glad you like Tanner :) He's really grown on me too these past three months. Thanks for your review :D**

**TwlightEclps: Thank you so much! I will definitely keep it up :D 6 chapters go!**

**Thank you, everyone, for your continued patience and readership. Its heartwarming to know that this story has touched so many of you and has been enjoyable enough to read on a continual basis over the past three months. I promise to continue giving it my best all the way until the end!**

**See you all next chapter!**

**Later!**


	35. Sanctuary

I can honestly say I've never seen so many walkers in one place.

Two years its been. Since everything started. Since the dead became undead and began feasting on the living. Even after all those months, most of which—even with Carl and friends—have been spent on the road, I have never quite seen a herd this large. To say there were thousands of undead trampling across the abandoned highway would probably be an understatement. It almost seems futile to even fight them. But our goal isn't to kill them all. Its merely to punch a hole through in order to get around Greensboro and into Virginia. The SUV Rick, Carl, Michonne, and I have used as our primary mode of transportation over the last month, rattles and jumps with the bumps in the road. This slightly throws off my aim, but, nevertheless, I manage to drop several walkers. Beside me, Carl is doing the same; picking off any walker that gets too close to the vehicle. Around us, the combined convoy of our group and the group lead by Aaron all follow similar routines. Even Daryl, a strict user of his infamous crossbow, has resorted to using an assault rifle-type weapon and is taking out his fair share of the undead horde.

Poor Judith, on the other hand, and as is to be expected of an infant, is not at all enjoying all the noise.

At all.

The moment the shooting began, combined with the roar of the engines around us, she began to wail like a newborn. I can't exactly blame her, though. Were I an infant, this kind of thing would terrify the hell out of me. Judith's crying, however, is easily pushed to the back of my mind, allowing me to focus on killing the cadavers outside my car window. I pull the trigger, the gun belches a singular bullet, and that bullet strikes the head of some unlucky walker bastard; whose head violently explodes in a geyser of blood and brain matter. At this point, the herd starts to thicken. So much so, that it becomes difficult for me to see anything but a sea of corpses between our car and the other vehicles.

"Focus on the ones who get close!" Michonne shouts over the sound of air rushing by our accelerated vehicle.

At this point, anything else will just be a waste of bullets. There are just too many of them. Suddenly, the SUV violently jerks, sending my head crashing into the headrest of my seat. The road is so thick with corpses, we actually have begun hitting them. Two more shots and my clip is empty. I turn to get more, only to find Carl in a similar predicament. Our ammunition is limited. Even with Rick focusing on driving, we still have three people to share a very limited amount of rounds with. Even so, as I'm snapping the clip back into the handle of the pistol, I notice just how close we are to the city. It was already a short distance between camp and the city limits. The walkers have slowed us down, but if we continue at the rate we've gone, we'll make it fairly soon. Still, to get there, we need to cut down more walkers than we're averaging at the moment.

And that's when an idea hits me.

Rather than aiming for the nearest walker, I aim for something just beyond them. The tires of the abandoned vehicles on the road. Throwing caution to the wind, I squeeze the trigger, firing a shot which slams into the nearest tire. The explosion that ensues is deafening, spewing shrapnel and metal everywhere. The surrounding walkers are immediately blown away or cut down by flying pieces of rusting metal. Though only one of them is actually killed, the others are incapable of walking, and are now crawling mindlessly along the asphalt.

"What the hell was that?!" Michonne barks above me.

"Aim for the tires!" I shout back. "It may not kill them, but it will incapacitate more of them than we can shoot, and it saves bullets!"

Over my shoulder, I hear Carl shoot, followed by another tremendous explosion. Needing no further prompting than that, Michonne joins in, and, before long, my ears begin to ring with the earsplitting sound of tires exploding. Of course, it doesn't _always_ work. Two years has passed since the apocalypse began. Some vehicles have lost the air in their tires, or simply don't have enough to produce an explosion. Even so, the ones that _do_ have the conditions we need are still abundant. With each tire explosion, we take down an average of eight to ten walkers, depending on how dense the herd is in that particular spot. Most of the walkers survive the blasts, but are rendered incapable of walking, which makes running them over with our vehicle, or simply driving past them much easier.

"I see the city limits!" Carl blurts over the noise.

My ears are ringing so badly, at this point, that I can barely hear him. Glancing through the blood-splattered front window, I can indeed see the familiar faded-green road sign that indicates that we're again about to hit the city. Even more to my delight is the sight of the herd thinning the closer we get to the buildings. It seems that, by now, most of the built up undead which were trapped within the city have now come out and are lumbering around the highway. We fly past the signs, tires squealing, as we swerve into town. Walkers are becoming thinner by the mile to the point that, before long, we can stop shooting, because they're no longer able to condense around the car, allowing us to just zip by them.

"What's the plan?" I call out. "The others?"

"We'll stop when we reach the other side of town. Meet up with the others." Rick replies. "Figure out where we go from there."

Michonne drops down through the sunroof, "What about those other people?"

Rick is silent.

"Rick?" Me.

Those people were offering sanctuary. I admit, I'm skeptical. Many people have offered us safety in the past, but those people hadn't helped us carve a path through a herd of walkers. Nor had they approached us unarmed. Terminus was a lie, one that I had bad feelings about up until the day we got there, but this time was different. I have curiosity in regards to this. But not fear. Not yet, anyways.

"We'll figure that out when we get stopped." Rick finally replies.

####

The city still has a walker presence. Far less than before, due to the migration of the herd, but still something we had to deal with. Nevertheless, after forty-five minutes of maneuvers through the streets, abandoned roadways, filled with rusting vehicles, and the remaining walkers, we cross Greensboro to the other side. Once the city skyline was quite a ways to our back, Rick signals the other vehicles to pull over to the side of the road in order to discuss our next course of action. Things aren't looking so hot. We're running low on gas. Food is scarce. Greensboro wasn't an option for a run, even with the walker herd on its outskirts rather than in its streets. More to the point, our original target of Washington D.C. may now be moot because of Eugene's massive lie. Funny. In all the action and drama, I'd almost completely forgotten that Eugene had even lied to us to begin with.

Finding a grassy knoll off to the side of the road, the group pulls off, parks the vehicles and begins piling out. Carol is at our door side before I even manage to squirm my way out of the vehicle, having come to assist with Judith. The roar of an engine immediately fill my ears and I snap around to see who could have caused it, seeing as all our cars were off. A single large pickup truck emerges from up the road, pulling in beside Aaron's caravan. A truck I hadn't seen before. I watch curiously as a short-haired scruffy man hops out of the driver's seat and walks around his vehicle, and, to my surprise, embraces Aaron before planting a short kiss on his lips. That action alone is more than enough to connect the dots for me. These men, like Carl and I, are lovers. That eases my doubt even further. On cue, Carl turns around the vehicle, glancing to the side to see Aaron and his companion's brief show of affection. When Carl's gaze turns to meet mine, I can see that he's visibly blushing.

Wordlessly, I reach out and slip my arms around him. He, in turn, turns around in my arms, leaning back into me; surrendering himself completely to my embrace.

Eventually, the entire group is assembled, awaiting someone to talk.

"Who the hell is that?" Rick grunts suspiciously upon seeing the new arrival himself.

"He's with me." Aaron replies. "Don't worry, though. He's alone."

"You couldn't tell us about him before?" Rick presses. "Anymore surprises for us?"

"Now, Rick, that's hardly fair." Aaron counters, sounding genuinely offended. "Not even an hour ago, you and your group members were hiding around in the woods watching us. Are we not allowed to be as cautious? This is my partner, Eric. He was an insurance policy in case you all turned out to be bad people."

Rick is rendered speechless by this and keeps silent.

Aaron makes a point, though. Seems to me like both groups are only doing what is necessary to keep their people alive. Rick is a smart man. I know he realizes this. He's just too prideful to admit it.

"One more person steps out of those woods," Daryl chimes in. "I'll kill 'em. So you'd best tell us the truth. Anymore of you in there?"

"I promise this is it." Aaron affirms. "Who you see here is everyone."

"Enough of this." Carol snaps. "What are we going to do now? We don't have gasoline. Hardly any food. We need a plan, not more bickering."

"I'm working on it!" Rick retorts.

"Sounds like what you need is a community." Aaron interjects. "Walls, food... a house."

I'm pretty sure we're all taken aback by that last revelation. Tension hangs thick in the air for several moments while we all process the information that's just been dumped on us. Its hard to imagine a place like that actually exists. This is all assuming they're even telling us the truth to begin with. And if they were? The prospects of this place only seem to be getting better.

"Did you say 'house'?" Sasha mutters, astonished.

Aaron nods, "Oh yes, there are quite a few where we are. Electricity too and running water. The whole set up."

"That's impossible." Glenn chimes in.

"Quite possible, friend." this time its Eric that speaks up.

"Just what is this camp of yours?" Maggie steps up next to her husband, equally as disbelieving.

"I can't tell you much until we get there." Aaron replies. "Let's just say, its not quite the kind of camp you're expecting. Look, I know what its like out here. On the road. I know how uncertain you all are, but I promise you won't regret this. Eventually..." he trails off. "You will trust me."

"Why are you in such a rush?" Rick finally speaks again. "We need more time to think about this. All of us."

"No, fuck that!" this time its Sasha and she looks anything but willing to wait. "I'm sorry, Rick. But I'm going with him. Tyreese and I are going with him. There are nearly forty people at that camp. Food, water, shelter and he's _inviting_ us in. So far, all I've heard him ask in return is that we all pull our weight. Do what we've always done by helping in whatever way we can! After Terminus... the Governor... Woodbury, I get it. You're skeptical. I was too, but a community like that needs _people_! He needs us as much as we need him. This man is not the Governor. His demeanor. His stance. _Everything_ is different."

"What are you suggesting?" Rick turns his expression on her.

"If we don't do this, if we let this opportunity completely blow past us, then what the hell are we doing? Are we just going to continue to wander the roads looking for another prison? Terminus? What are we doing here? What's our purpose? We were heading to Washington because we thought there would be a real shot, but that's no longer the case. I thought the whole point of this was to find something. Anything. Something exactly like _this._ And Aaron is offering it to us." Sasha replies, impassioned.

I can't say I disagree with her.

But I have another factor involved. Carl. Carl is my love. My life. Where he goes, I go. I couldn't leave him behind for all the food, water, or safety in the world. If that means another two years on the road, so be it. Nevertheless, Sasha's sentiments are right.

"I'm with Sasha." Maggie announces, startling the rest of us. "I'm going too."

"If Sasha's going, I am too." Bob joins in.

"If Maggie's going," this time its Glenn. "That decides it for me."

Rick turns to Carol and Daryl.

"Anyone else?" he queries.

"I'm in." Carol announces.

"I go where you go, Rick." Daryl replies.

"That sounds like most of you." Aaron interjects, smiling rather pleased.

"Rosita and I will give it a shot too." Abraham replies. "Our mission is over. Finding a place to settle down doesn't sound too bad."

In my arms, Carl stirs. I can tell he's roused by this discussion. Like his father, Carl is a massive skeptic. Were he not, he would not have snapped at me so strongly the day before. If I know my boyfriend, and I do, he's probably not buying any of this. And not because of any personal reasons of his own. In his heart, even though he denies it, I know he wants safety too. He's tired of always being on the run, just as much as I am. But Carl isn't going anywhere without his father and, as I said, I'm not going anywhere without him.

"Dad?" Carl finally joins in, rousing the curiosity of everyone.

Rick averts his gaze to his son, then to me, and last to someone behind me. Probably Michonne. He looks at us differently than he did the rest of the group. It doesn't take a genius to understand why. Though Carl and Judith are his only remaining blood relatives, he considers myself and Michonne family as well, and so our gazes must weigh on him as well. I don't give Rick a verbal indication as to my opinion. Instead, I wordlessly squeeze his petite son tightly within my embrace and simply give him a nod. Its a small, seemingly meaningless gesture, but my way of saying that my fate lies with Carl's. I'll follow them wherever they go. Rick picks up on this and nods back at me, a small smile slipping to his face. In a way, I think he's finally come to admire the bond Carl and I share, and my overall loyalty to him. Finally, though, Rick throws up his hands in defeat.

"We could have waited. Discussed this in the morning when we've had a full day to think about it. I wasn't going to stand here and make that decision for everyone." he explains. "I just thought we needed some time to think about this."

Tyreese steps forward, "With all due respect, Rick, we're all starving." he says plainly. "If there's food there, I'm there."

Rick glances around the group a final time. After Sasha's impassioned speech, pretty much everyone's agreement, and Tyreese's final nail in the coffin, its pretty much certain the decision he'll make. Even so, the air is tense, and everyone is on edge. This is the biggest decision we've all had to make since the entire group was reunited back at Terminus. Do we accept people again? Or, rather, do we keep to ourselves and keep traveling? Both are dangerous, but only one has a promising outcome. The glint in Rick's eyes tells me he realizes this too and so, with a huff, he concedes.

"Very well." he announces. "If that's what everyone wants."

####

((**Carl's P.o.V.**))

"Everyone pile in!" Abraham declares after several minutes. "Let's get a move on!"

"Abraham, wait up!" Dad interjects, cutting the solider off. "Let me talk to you for a sec."

The two men venture off to the edge of the circle of vehicles, while everyone else prepares to load up for our final journey to this new camp. I'm highly conflicted about this matter. I've seen the Governor and Terminus. Whatever sounds too good to be true almost always is and this definitely sounds too good to be true. Food. Water. A _house_? I believe I even heard Aaron say there was electricity as well. It'd be just like the old days. The days before all of this. And that, to me, sounds absolutely absurd and impossible. As if sensing my discomfort, Tanner tightens his grip around my torso and pulls me tighter against him. He hasn't let me go since this confrontation began and, in a way, I'm thankful for that. Just his touch has managed to keep my fears about this entire manner manageable. Off to our side, Aaron and his partner, Eric, who I assume to be lovers like Tanner and I, pull off to the side of their group to talk. I can't hear what they're talking about, but the way they're wrapping their arms around each other and nuzzling together right now, I assume its just about personal business.

"What do you think?" Tanner suddenly speaks, having noticed my line of sight.

"They act like us." I reply, sounding somewhat distant.

I feel Tanner chuckle against my back, "I was thinking the same thing."

"Do you think they're dangerous?"

If I know Tanner, he's already been thinking about this. He didn't speak up when everyone was airing their grievances earlier, but I know that he's just intent on staying with me. Which is good; I'm not letting anything separate us again. Not after Terminus and especially not after our little tiff yesterday. He shifts somewhat, sighing in the process, and seems to consider his answer for a moment.

"I don't know." he finally replies. "They seem well to do. Even so, we'll keep our guard up. Even if I did completely trust them, I'd be on guard after Terminus. If we keep our wits about us and stay together, we'll be fine. We always are."

I smile and lean back into him further, "Yeah. We always do, don't we?"

About this time, Dad comes around the corner of the vehicles with Abraham and motions for Tanner and I to grab Judith and then join him in the SUV. I promptly free myself from Tanner's embrace and proceed to take Judith from Carol before following my older boyfriend back to the vehicle. After safely securing Judith in her seat, I climb in beside Tanner, and Michonne isn't far behind us; hopping into the front passenger seat.

"What was that all about?" Michonne inquires upon Dad starting the engine. "You and Abraham?"

"Just making sure everyone stays alert." Dad replies, putting the car into gear. "A safe community with that many supplies and accommodations? I just can't take that for what it is."

Michonne nods, "I think we all feel the same. At least," she trails off for a moment. "At least, some of us."

"They're right, though." Tanner suddenly speaks up. "We have to give this a chance."

Dad huffs in frustration, "We'll give them a shot. But.. the first sign of trouble? We take 'em out."

Without any more exchanges, Dad pulls out in pursuit of the rest of the group and we're once again back on the road. From what I gather from the earlier conversations, this camp of theirs is only a few hours away, across the border of Virginia. The border is the first objective we cross due to its close proximity to Greensboro. The countryside, like all the states we've been in since leaving Georgia, is completely barren. The further in we go, the less abandoned vehicles we see, and the more overgrown vegetation we begin to notice. Walkers are scarce initially. Our caravan completely avoids the larger towns, steering around them to avoid another herd incident. Next to me, Tanner, who seems completely uninterested in sight seeing, has began to dose off. Lacking anything we can use as a real pillow, I offer him my shoulder, which he happily obliges to. Before long, I can feel his breath steady and then the faint noises of sleep can be heard.

Eventually, we emerge from the Virginia countryside and onto another highway. A much less crowded highway. The road signs there are faded and falling apart, but I can at least make out the names of the locations we're heading to. The one that catches my attention the most is a large rusted green sign with the words "Washington D.C." scrolled out on it in bold white letters. Wherever we're going, it must be close to the capital. Its kinda funny to me that our destination was still so close to the original location we were targeting. After about another hour, at which point even I'm becoming sleepy, the caravan comes to an immediate halt on a large cliff, overlooking the surrounding landscape. Dad seems somewhat alarmed by this and, upon turning the SUV off, immediately hops out of the car to see what is going on.

"Why did we stop?!" he demands.

"We're nearly there." Aaron replies, hopping out of his own vehicle. "Thought we'd stop to let everyone stretch their legs and take a piss."

All the commotion has roused Tanner from his sleep and he jolts awake to investigate the sudden disruption. Leaving Judith safely secured in her car seat, the two of us disembark the vehicle to get a look around. I immediately venture over to the edge of the cliff where everyone seems to be gathering. That's when I realize where we are. In the far distance, spread out below us, is a large metropolitan area that has been made completely vacant by the apocalypse. But its not the city that catches my attention, nor the smell of seawater somewhere nearby. Instead, its the building that rises quite distinctively from near the center of the city. The Capitol Building of the United States of America. I've only ever seen it in textbooks, but the shape of the structure was so unique, that it was immediately recognizable.

"That's it..." Tanner breathes behind me. "That's the capitol."

I hum an agreement.

"Its so unreal." he says.

I crane my neck to see him, "What? We've seen plenty of cities like this before."

"Yeah." he replies. "Only I've been to this one before."

This takes me aback, "You have?"

He nods, "My second year in high school, for summer vacation, my family and I took a family vacation here to see the sights. It was a remarkable city. We came during the Cherry Blossom Festival and joined in the festivities." Tanner's eyes briefly glaze over, as if he is temporarily transported back to that time, long ago. Before the dead walked. "I've been... in that capitol building. Seen the White House. Been on the National Mall. And now..."

"Its gone." I finish for him.

"Such a shame." he continues. "Despite the crookedness that once dominated this city, it was still a beautiful place, rich with history. Now look at it."

Behind me, Dad, Aaron, and Abraham approach the rest of us.

"Take a good look." Aaron says. "This is as close to the capitol as we get. To get to our destination, we'll need to take the long route around. From here, we have about an hour before reaching our community."

"How about telling us a little bit more about this community of yours?" Daryl suddenly speaks up.

"I told you, you'll know all about it in an hour or so." Aaron replies.

"Forgive us," its Tyreese. "But, we've trusted you enough to come this far. Now, I think most of us would like to know what we're walking into. We're grateful you're inviting us in, but surely you can understand why we'd be so concerned."

Aaron is silent for a moment.

I notice how he regards Eric, who is now standing off to his side. The way he looks at Eric causes me to grin slightly. Its the same way Tanner looks at me whenever he's unsure of what to say or do. I'd been right when I told Tanner they were like us earlier. Their mannerisms are very similar and its easy to see, just by the way they look at each other, that they care immensely for one another. A sudden warmth fills my chest cavity and I become keenly aware of the metal ring that is still dangling underneath my shirt, held around my neck by the chain Tanner added to it. Seeing them act like this makes me want to hold his hand and so, without warning him, I reach out and do so. At first, he's taken off guard, and stares at me for a moment. I merely give him a squeeze, which is enough for him to break out in a smile of his own and return to listening to events unfolding around us.

"I can tell you this much." Aaron finally replies. "Its a neighborhood not far from the capitol. We built walls around it. Cut it off from the outside world. Because its part of the metropolitan area, there is plenty of places around us for the community to go on supply runs and sustain ourselves. But like I said, I can tell you all of those details and more once we actually get there."

So that's it.

Its a neighborhood on the outskirts of D.C.

I can't say that I feel any better, but at least I now know how they can obtain all those things Aaron mentioned earlier. Not to mention, after watching several of Aaron and Eric's brief exchanges, I'm starting to get the feeling that they're better people than I gave them credit for. I'm still weary, but I believe I'm coming around to them. Judging by the look on Tanner's face, I'd say he's thinking the same thing.

"One more thing." Dad isn't about to let this go. "You built your community so close to this?" he gestures towards the capitol city. "All those walkers in that city. There would be thousands! Hundreds of thousands! Isn't that dangerous?"

"Trust me, Rick." Aaron responds with a confident smile. "We've taken precautions."

"Let's get back on the road." Eric suggests. "Evening's coming. We want to make it to the community before nightfall."

"Agreed." Dad replies.

It only takes us a few minutes to load the vehicles again. Our car, and I assume the cars of our friends, are getting dangerously close to empty on fuel. I can only hope that we are as close as Aaron and Eric suggest, because walking doesn't sound like the best plan this close to a city full of walkers. We travel down a gently sloping hill and seem to be heading closer to the city. We travel slower than before. I suppose so as not to attract any unwanted attention from the local walkers. We weave through dozens of abandoned neighborhoods on our way. Some with stray walkers, others that are completely desolate. After awhile we pass under another large road sign.

**Alexandria**

I perk up upon seeing it, shaking Tanner awake from his cat nap to point it out to him.

"Think that's where we're headed?" I ask him.

"It makes sense." he replies sleepily. "Alexandria is a small town outside of Washington. Fits the bill of where we're headed."

Before we can continue our conversation, the car slows to a stop, and I turn around to see what is the cause of the hold up. And that's when I see it for the first time. A wall. A large wall, stretched out as far as my eyes can see. The only opening I can see in it is where a small iron-rod gate has been built to allow people in and out. Slowly, and with much trepidation, Tanner, who carries Judith, Dad, Michonne, and I all clamber out of the SUV and take a good look at the community for the first time. Two men on horseback have emerged from within the walls, likely to see what all the commotion outside their home is all about. Off to the side of us, Aaron and Eric climb out of their truck and begin to converse with the two men on horseback about something I can't quite make out from here. Beside me, Tanner cradles Judith gently in his strong arms, all the while staring in awe at the site of the new sanctuary.

"You seeing this?" I ask him, grin spreading over my face quicker than I can control it.

"Hell yes, I am." he replies, grinning equally as wide.

"This is it!" Aaron calls out just then. "You all made it! Once we're inside, there is a parking area over to the right. Park your vehicles there and then our senior official around here will want to talk to you."

As if on cue, an older man steps through the open gates to the community and gives everyone a gentle wave.

"This is Douglas Monroe, everyone!" Aaron announces. "He's that senior official I was talking to you about."

"Good to see you all!" the man named Douglas proclaims. "Welcome to Alexandria!"

####

((**Tanner's P.o.V.**))

Welcome.

I've never been so happy to hear that word in my entire life.

Rick and Daryl park the cars per Aaron's instructions, while the rest of us take our first steps into Alexandria on foot. The sight on the other side of the gates is stunning. Houses. Houses that look untouched by the apocalypse raining down around them. There are children, much younger than Carl and I, playing in the streets. Tag, ball, you name it, they were playing it. It was as if we had all taken a step into a parallel universe, where the dead never came back to eat the living. Where life as we have known it hasn't come to an end and everything is just the way it was before. I know that's not the case, but the sheer thought of it all is overwhelming. Carl takes his place at my side, a look of bewildered amazement on his freckled-face as he gazes out on everything I've just described. Even Judith chirps happily in my arms.

"Looks like things can really be different here." Rick announces, approaching us from behind with Michonne and the others.

"It can be." Aaron replies, approaching us from the other side. "Here, your boys will be able to make new friends. Your girl will grow up safely. There are many families here, after all. In fact, I think, for the most part, you'll find that life inside these walls are a lot like how life used to be. Out there. On the outside. In here we can forget, even for a moment, that the dead came back to life."

Eric joins us at this point. "Douglas is ready to see you." he says to Rick. "Answer all his questions honestly. You'll be fine. His house is just over there."

Rick left to go meet with Douglas, while Aaron and Eric stay behind to mingle with us.

"How long do you think they'll be?" I ask, mainly thinking aloud.

"Oh, awhile." Eric replies. "Douglas is known for his long-winded stories. But, in the meantime, we can give you the rundown of the place. We're all pretty sure your group will be accepted."

"Let's hear it." Daryl says.

"Well, assuming Rick impresses Douglas, you'll all become members of this community. Everyone in Alexandria pitches in and helps in their own way. Some help deal with the walkers. Others are in charge of going on supply runs and yet others stay here and help out with the internal affairs. There's a lot to do. You'll also all get your own houses. Families stay together, of course. We just got done with a new expansion to the wall, so there should be plenty for you all." Aaron explains.

"You said you had electricity?" Carol chimes in.

"Ah yes." Eric chuckles. "This place runs off an old emergency power grid. Built in case of terrorist attacks or bomb threats. Never imagined it'd be used for something like this."

"This really is incredible." I mutter to myself, eliciting a smile from Carl.

"You two can feel free to play with the other kids." Eric says to me.

I'm taken aback by this. I'm seventeen. Closing in on eighteen by winter. Carl may be small and petite, but he's sixteen. The children playing on the other side of the street are no older than ten or twelve. That immediately counts me out and, if I know Carl well enough, he wouldn't play with kids in that manner even if he was _paid_ to. This world has changed us too much. Living out on the road has hardened our minds and bodies well beyond our normal ages. I glance at Carl, who immediately looks up to glance at me. His expression says it all. He's thinking the exact same thing I am.

"Thanks, Eric, but," I begin. "Carl and I stick pretty much to ourselves. We'll be fine."

Eric chuckles, "Suit yourselves."

Half and hour passes before Rick and Douglas finally emerge from their conversation in the man's house, joining us on the street.

"We're in." Rick announces rather happily.

"We'll get to know you folks individually at dinner." Douglas explains. "In the meantime, I'll show you all to your homes. You can rest up there in the time being."

The group agrees and, with that, we take off following Douglas. Prepared to start our new lives.

####

The house was a small one.

About the size of the house I use to live in when I was in Texas. A living room, small kitchen, and three bedrooms adorned it. Michonne has volunteered to live with us, no surprise to me. Rick gave her the master bedroom, taking a small bedroom across the hall for himself. Carl and I found our room on the other side of the house. It was a plain room. No decorations. Just a bed, large enough for us both, dressers for our clothes, and a small closet off to the side. It feels so weird. I've been in houses since the entire world went to shit. But nothing like this. A clean house. No trash or debris scattered everywhere. The smell of death is absent. It feels like home. A real home. I sit my traveling bags down in the doorway and promptly plop down in the bed for the first time, taking in the amazing aroma of fresh sheets. How long has it been since I have smelled fresh sheets on a bed that is all my own? Since I was at home? Two years then. Carl distracts me from my daydreaming by entering our bedroom, leaning up against the door and regarding me with a soft smile upon seeing that I'm lumbering around in our new bed.

"Comfy yet?" he inquires of me.

I chuckle loudly into the sheets, "Carl, comfortable doesn't even begin to describe it." I reply. I then pat the sheets next to me. "Come join me."

He's all too happy to oblige, crossing the room swiftly, before hopping on the bed in a similar manner to the way I did. I immediately seize the opportunity to envelop him in a bear hug. Happiness and relief are sweeping through my body in ways they haven't in two full years. So much so that I cannot help but to plant a joyful, sloppy wet kiss on his cheek, to which he only giggles.

"Aaron's going to bring over a baby bed for Judy." he announces after a few moments. "She'll stay with Dad."

"She can grow up here, Carl." I say, sounding rather surprised that I can actually say that now. "Without having to worry about the outside."

Carl sighs almost happily, "Yeah," he says. "I'm starting to believe that too."

"And you and me," I continue, drawing his full attention. "We can make a life for each other here. We can really do that."

Carl admires me for a moment. His eyes staring into mine. Blue on blue. Something about what I've just said strikes him profoundly and he dips in to return my earlier kiss, only this time he plants one on my lips. Firm. Loving. And yet gentle at the same time. His lips taste heavenly and its only then that I realize that we haven't gotten to do this all day. We kiss for a few moments, enjoying the relaxed peacefulness of our new abode and our company with each other. I push his hat off his head and gently brush the strands of hair out of his eyes. He's so handsome. Especially when he's glowing with happiness. Its a sight that only continues to warm my heart.

"We'd better get going." I finally say. "Dinner is soon. We're gonna get to meet everyone."

Carl sighs again. "Do we have to?" he pretends to pout. "Can't we just stay here and keep each other company all night?"

I grin widely at him, "We have all night for that. Besides, I'm starving."

"You're always hungry." he snorts a laugh.

"Yes, well, today more than any other day." I reply with a chuckle of my own.

I give him one last kiss and then we rise up from the bed to go meet with Rick and Michonne in the living room. Before we make it to the door, however, Carl wraps his arms around me from behind in a large, almost spine-crushing hug.

"I love you." he whispers into my shirt.

I smile as we once again begin to head towards the door.

"I love you too."

As we begin to head towards the living room, it finally dons on me that I can now fulfill that promise I made to Carl all that time ago, when the two of us were hiding out in the funeral home. And that's when I make up my mind.

Tomorrow, I'm taking him on a date.

A real one.

Somehow, someway, I'm going to make tomorrow a celebration for us both. For all the things we've been through and all the things we're going to go through together in our future. One thing I can finally say with assuredness, though, is:

Our hard work has finally paid off.

* * *

**A/N: Alexandria at last! The story has five more chapters left. The remaining five will solely focus on the romantic aspect of this story, tying up any loose ends for Carl and Tanner's relationship, as well as exploring a little more of Alexandria before I bring this little adventure to a close. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Its the last of the more "tense" chapters for this story, so it all looks up from here! :D Also, this story has now passed the 17,000 viewer mark. For some that may not be a big deal, but for me, its huge! Never, ever thought in my wildest dreams that it would reach that high of views so thank you all for giving this story a shot! I hope it has really been an enjoyable run for you all!**

**Now for the review from the last chapter:**

**Obtained: Biters was a last minute inclusion xD I love the term almost as much as walkers, so I wanted to include it. But who knows? Maybe the old Governor is floating around somewhere, haunting the place up! hahaha Now I'm going to hear his voice everytime I write as Aaron xD Thank you for your comment!**

**I'll see you guys for the next chapter!**

**Later!**


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